


Ocean Stars Falling

by Riza



Category: Homestuck, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU, Gen, Homestuck fusion, RTStuck, SBURB, grimdark!gavin, may possibly become a full-fledged mavin fic later who knows, vague hints of mavin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:59:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 56,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1887576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riza/pseuds/Riza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It shouldn't be possible that a small green box could cause this much trouble. It was just a game, just a dumb game that showed up on the front door on Monday morning before any of them were awake enough to think clearly.</p>
<p>Now they're scattered across six planets, each with their own set of challenges, and half of them are dead, and one of them's vanished, and another found a weird slab of rock in a cave somewhere, and the world's being destroyed by meteors, and Geoff could really, really use a stiff drink right about now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> This'll be more of a Homestuck fusion than a crossover. The HS universe is incredibly confusing, so I bent a few rules here and there to make it easier to write, but most of the canon is still intact (with the exception of the kids, the trolls, and Alternia, of course). 
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so please let me know if you see any huge mistakes. I'm in the market for a beta- or proof-reader if anyone's interested! And as always, please comment with any criticisms you might have, I'm always looking to improve my writing.

On Monday, an unmarked UPS box, addressed to Achievement Hunter Office, Rooster Teeth Productions LLC, Austin, TX, had showed up at on the front steps. Geoff brought it in that day and put it on the front table, assuming it was probably some piece of technology Ryan wanted to install. Ryan thought it was a new game or something similar that one of the Lads had ordered, while Michael and Ray both thought the other had picked it up as a gift for Blaine's graduation. It wasn't until the box had been sitting on the table near the door for almost two weeks that Gavin gave into his curiosity and carefully unwrapped it to see what was inside.

Turned out Ryan hadn't been that far from the mark. It was a small green box, shaped like a package for a PC game, with twelve CDs inside. Each one was marked either “server” or “client”, and within six plastic tabs there was one each of the server and client disks-- one for each of the Achievement Hunters. But when he turned on his laptop and tried to install the server, nothing seemed to happen until Michael sat down next to him and joined in as a client. The screen shifted, things happened, and a series of events unfolded; after half an hour of play, the two of them had been so freaked out that Gavin hid the game case behind a stack of old GameInformer magazines and made Michael swear that they'd never play it again.

That promise lasted for about a week until Geoff found the disks during one of the rare occasions where he actually tried to tidy up a bit. He'd laughed hysterically at Gavin's story and told him he was being an idiot, it was just a bunch of code, and anyway if it was that scary they should record it as a Let's Play, since their video of Slender had gotten so many views. Reluctantly, Gavin had agreed, and they set up a daisy-chain of server-client connections: Jack to Ray, Ray to Geoff, Geoff to Ryan, Ryan to Michael and Michael to Gavin. 

It quickly became clear that Geoff had been utterly wrong about the game. When Jack and Ray realized that they were essentially playing two-player Minecraft in real life (and that all six of them were not, in fact, having a group hallucination), everyone had flipped their collective shit. Ryan, who distrusted anything that couldn't be explained by science, said that they needed to either send this game to the government or an agency that dealt with weird universe-altering games, “like MIT or something”, or stop playing and never speak of it again, “because really, who'd trust us to play this?” Michael, never one to back down from a challenge, wanted to keep playing, arguing that maybe the game was originally supposed to go to one of those agencies, but somehow ended up at Rooster Teeth-- making this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to play it “before they come back for it”. Ray backed him up, and after an hour and a half of bickering about the game's ultimate fate, it was eventually decided that they'd play it for a day-- no longer, in case it turned out to be more dangerous than they'd anticipated-- in their own homes (with the exception of Michael and Gavin, who were at Gavin's new place making use of his new Apple TV), so they wouldn't run the risk of damaging anything in the office.

Like before, Jack and Ray were the first ones in, the team guinea pigs. Everyone else watched while their game installed. When the portal appeared, a giant green spirograph floating over Ray's apartment, nobody had a clue what was happening-- the game hadn't come with any sort of manual. Only Gavin, who remembered reading a forum post about a similar game years ago, had any idea what it was: a portal to another planet, one for each of them. So Ray, being Ray, decided it would be a great idea to check it out, and promptly commanded Jack to build him a giant staircase. Jack protested that he didn't have anything to build with. Ray told it to make it out of all the stuff he'd been collecting; it turned out that he'd been slaying monsters for the last half hour-- while somehow managing to avoid attracting the attentions of his landlord-- and each dead imp dropped some kind of weird geometric prisms upon their death that could be used to purchase raw building material. Once completed, it didn't take long for him to get to the portal and, with a cheerful “yolo”, hop through before the guys could stop him.

Three hours later, both he and Jack had made it to their respective planets and had convinced the rest of the Achievement Hunters to join them. In the end, Ray was the only one who'd bothered prototyping a kernelsprite-- Gavin and Geoff couldn't figure out how, Jack had forgotten, and Ryan's combination of a creeper figurine and an old motherboard had exploded in a shower of silicon as soon as he got near it. Now Geoff was waiting for Michael to finish installing the server software, as he'd be playing as Michael's client until the latter was able to get through the portal. Ryan was on the verge of entering his planet, as Jack had built a similar staircase for him before jumping through his portal, and now he was nearing the top. The rest were listening to Jack and Ray exploring their lands.

“This is gonna be the best Let's Play ever.”

“More like the _longest_ Let's Play ever. God, I can already tell this is gonna be a three-parter, I'm gonna be editing this for _weeks_ \--”

“Seriously, Gavin? We're playing a game that transports us to other worlds, to whole new planets, and you've _still_ managed to find something to complain about that isn't the way we're currently cannibalizing the fabric of space and time. By the way, seriously, is anyone concerned about the side effects of that? At all? 'Cause it's definitely making me a little nervous.”

“Aw, Ryan, just chill, it's all there in the manual.”

“I've read the manual! There's nothing in it! You just stapled a bunch of Taco Bell receipts together and left it on my desk!”

“And it talks all about the physics of this place, doesn't it? Don't worry. Everything's under control.”

_“That doesn't make me feel any better!”_

“Hey Gavin, instead of bitching about editing, why don't you check out my land? I bet no one else gets a planet this rad.”

“Land of Roses and Waterfalls? Sounds like a goddamn paradise right now-- oh shit!”

“Sweet dodge, Jack. What is your planet, anyway? Land of Lava and Something, I'm guessing--”

“Land of Lava and Fuck Me, apparently.” Jack brushed ash off his shorts. Tiny volcanic missiles were raining down in bits and pieces around him. “I don't even see any volcanoes, where the hell is this all coming from? If this stuff singes my beard, I'm gonna be pissed.”

“Maybe not the best choice for a planet?”

“I didn't _choose_ the planet, asshole, Gavin's stupid game sent me here.” He hopped over a stream of lava running down the hill, amazed that the soles of his shoes hadn't melted yet. Although, strangely enough, it wasn't particularly hot out. The surface of the earth was really only warm where the lava had touched it. Jack didn't know much about geology, but somehow that seemed a little off to him. “Dammit, Geoff, when the hell are you gonna join me in this thing? Or are you gonna sit there and laugh at my misery like you do in Minecraft?”

“Hey man, I'm not Ryan. I gotta wait for Michael to connect, remember? He's my server player. We got this all set to go, like some kinda fucked-up daisy chain. So just cope for now, okay? – Look, Ray's not complaining.”

“I'm not. In fact, I am picking roses. I have fifty-six of them at this very moment. Now I have fifty-seven. Now I have fifty-eight...”

“All right, Ray's having a fiesta over on Paradise Island. Ryan, are you in yet?”

Static. Then: “I'm in. Holy mother of fuck this is amazing. I'm on a goddamn alien planet. Give me a sec to get used to this, otherwise I'm gonna pass out. Good Lord.”

“What's it look like, Ryan?”

“Pretty dark. Smells like pine trees and there's a bunch of weird-looking things in the sky? Nope, scratch that, it looks like a bunch of planets. Or maybe moons. Wow, those are awfully close. I'm, uh, gonna walk around for a bit, take it all in.”

“Will do. Just keep us updated. Michael, any luck yet?”

“It's taking forever to load for some reason, I think the disk is scratched or something. Also, it's like two hundred gigs! What the fuck is in it, the 4chan Encyclopedia of Hentai or something?”

“Oh wait, you might've found my external hard drive by mistake--”

“Man, that's fucked up. You're fucked up, Ryan.”

“Yeah, but...you already knew that, didn't you? Judge not, and all that.”

“And all what?”

“You know. All that stuff that's in the Bible about...”

“About porn?”

“All right, lads, we can discuss the morality of having sex with tentacle monsters later. Michael, seriously, are you almost done?”

“It's booting up the server software now, I'll let you know when you can hop in. Gavin, you wanna start getting your stuff set up?” 

“Already done, slowpoke.”

“Fine, see if you can help Geoff finish building that tower to the sky--”

“Already on it. Are you gonna learn how to play the game first this time?”

“You fucking told me that even you didn't know how to play this game! How the fuck am I supposed to learn? What did you call it? 'Sburb'? Sounds like a cat having explosive diarrhea.”

“Such poetry, Michael. How can the ladies help but fall at your feet?”

“Shut the fuck up, Jack. Geoff, you ready?”

“Fuck yeah, man. Let's do this shit.”

* * * * * *

**Geoff**

“GAVIN, WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY HOUSE??”

“Just a bit of-- you know-- redecorating--”

_“You redecorated my toilet through the wall!”_

“Well, if we're being perfectly truthful here, Michael, it was a remarkably ugly-looking toilet.”

“You could even say it's a shitty-looking toilet.”

“Ray, you're not helping. Gavin, considering that when my landlady sees this she is going to rip my still-beating heart out of my chest, beat me to death with it and then eat it raw like that dragon lady on Game of Thrones, I move that we offer you up as a sacrifice to her. How does that sound?”

“Michael-- Michael, look, I'm playing your XBox! What's over here in the game pile--” Geoff heard a thudding noise in his ear. “Whoops. Sorry about the shelf. Oooh, you've got Mass Effect 3, haven't played that in a while--”

_“Put down the controller, you creepy invisible fuck, and help me clean this up!”_

“All right, all right...now where did that toilet end up...”

_Crash._

“Thanks, Gav, you couldn't have pulled it through the _giant fucking hole that was already there?_ You had to go and break _another_ wall??”

“The important thing is that the toilet is back in place. Let's not worry about petty things like walls or pipes.”

“You know, I'm pretty sure it didn't take Jack or I this long to enter our lands,” Ray piped up.

“Go play with your roses. What the hell are you doing _now_ , Gavin?”

“This is a delicate operation! It's like surgery--”

“--and we all know how well that turned out for you guys,” Geoff said. He was busy clambering up the spiral staircase that Michael had built for him while acting as Geoff's server host. “Christ, how high up is this thing? I don't remember signing up for Stairmaster Simulator.”

“Michael, move over, I have to place your alchemiter.”

“Place my alchawhat? Jeez, at least buy me dinner first. I'm not that kind of girl.”

“It's so you can prototype your kernelsprite!”

“Words keep coming out of your mouth but _none of them make any sense_!!”

“It's a little floaty ghost thing that you throw items in! It's supposed to help guide you through the game.”

“Wait, seriously? Because mine just keeps making dick jokes.”

“Ray, that's probably because you prototyped the fanart of yourself that one girl sent you. Aaaaand there goes my ceiling. Thanks, Gavvy.”

“No problem, Michael. Guys, I think I've found my calling as an interior designer.”

“Great! You can go help Jack build houses the next time we get back to Minecraft. In the meantime, hurry up and deploy the alcho-- alchie-- the thing so I can get to the goddamn portal already.”

Finally, breathing hard, Geoff climbed the last few steps of his makeshift tower. _Damn, that fucking sucked. Maybe I shouldn't have given Caleb so much shit for playing Ultimate Frisbee, he probably would've reached the top half an hour ago._

The portal cast a greenish glow around his house, making the trees and grass look rather sickly. The upper floor of his house was more or less destroyed-- much like Michael's, from the sound of it. Thank God Griffon was away at a music festival. He could totally clean this up before she got home. And convince her that the tower was a worthwhile piece of architecture that should be allowed to stay. It was avant-garde. She'd be fine with it. Definitely. Probably.

Wait. What was that flash in the distance?

“Uh, guys? I just saw something really wei--”

The world exploded. Frozen in place, Geoff watched as light rained from the sky; a few seconds later, the shock wave hit, shaking the tower so violently that he was barely able to cling on by the tips of his fingers. The flash nearly blinded him. All he could see was random patches of blue and green darting around his peripheral vision. 

“Geoff, what the hell was that?”

“Ryan--” Smoke filled his mouth and left him choking, clinging for dear life to the wall. His vision was in flames-- no, wait, shit, those were _actual_ flames. Something rumbled in the distance. Another rumble, and then another--

“Geoff, what the fuck is going on?”

The smoke was clearing a little now, and his eyesight with it, but there was too much going on for him to distinguish within the carnage. Someone was yelling in his ear, and things were exploding, and oh God everything was on fire. The neighbor's garage across the street was nothing but a charred crater. Strange white flakes began falling on his jacket, leaving smears of silver in their wake. Snow?

No. Ash.

“God dammit, Geoff, say something!”

He coughed once and spat. It was gray-- almost black. He snapped out of it.

“I think a fucking meteor just hit my house.”

“A _what_?!”

“A fucking meteor, did I stutter? Jesus Chist, it's-- it's the goddamn apocalypse out here, fucking hell, it just landed on that ugly-ass Volvo across the street, I can hear them coming down all around me--”

“I heard it too.” Michael's voice was shaking. “I thought it was a test or something, it must be over on your side of town because I don't see anything yet. Jack, Ray, how come this didn't happen to you guys?”

Geoff's brain seemed to be operating in a kind of frozen shock. The voices in his headset faded to a dull whine. All he could do was watch as death rained from the sky. Now that the initial smoke had cleared up, he could see the meteors better: most of them were fairly small, leaving smoking pits where they fell, but here came a particularly massive one, and his stomach turned over as it flattened a familiar-looking building a few blocks down-- Kara's apartment. _Please, God, let her be at work, or out shopping, don't let her be home..._

Michael was shouting something, but nothing was getting through. The ash was kicking up again, coating his mouth, his lungs-- _if this gives me cancer I'm gonna be so goddamn pissed_ \-- and another meteor landed inches from his feet, bursting into sizzling shrapnel. And still he couldn't seem to move. 

And then, a few streets over, he saw a blaze of light flare up in the vicinity of Gus' house.

_“Holy fuck Gus oh Jesus Christ please no no no--”_

The voices in his ear went dead silent.

Something snapped within him, breaking his paralysis. Instinctively he knew it was hopeless, that the place was demolished, but he couldn't stop himself. He began down the tower, racing to get to his best friend, to get to Esther and Burnie, Kerry, Joel, Barb, everyone who had the misfortune to live near Geoff when he had decided to play this stupid game--

A voice spoke. He tried desperately to ignore it, to move, _move_ , he needed to save his friends and turn back time, but its tone was that of such authority that it stopped him in his tracks.

“Geoff. Stop.”

It was Ray, of all people. Ray, the quiet one, the rose aficionado and king of dirty jokes, who was speaking so calmly and clearly that it alone managed to penetrate the chaos.

“Think about what'll happen if you try to get over there. You said a meteor hit a garage, and-- and Gus' house. It's killing me to say this, man, but you can't help them now, you'll end up the same way. You gotta stay high up and pray that one doesn't hit you. I don't know why Jack and Ryan and I didn't get the meteors. Maybe because we pre-built everything, so there wasn't time for them to get here. If that's the case, you need to get to your land before you do anything else, because it isn't safe for you there right now. Same goes for the rest of you, before they show up at your place--”

“Too late,” Michael said in a strained voice. “Ray, they're coming through the _portal_ , how am I supposed to get through it without getting blasted to pieces?”

Ray paused. “Gavin, build like your life depends on it, get Michael out of there ASAP. Then use his tower to enter. Geoff? You still there?”

His throat was locked up, too tight to breathe, but somehow he made himself answer. “Yeah. Right here.”

“Okay. Get a move on, buddy. Tell us when you make it through. You too, Michael, Gavin.”

As the sky burned around him, Geoff thanked whatever nameless power there was that had given him and Michael the foresight to start building when they did. It wasn't fast enough to beat the meteors, apparently, but at least he might be able to save himself and his friends. Gingerly, he climbed up to the summit, trying not to think about the ongoing destruction of everything around him within a five-mile radius. Just a few more steps-- the air was growing thin and hot, stifling him-- a few more--

He was back under the portal. Like a black hole, it seemed to absorb light: he could see nothing within, not even sky. It was as if someonen had taken a pair of scissors to a cloud and ripped it in two. Michael was right, the meteors seemed to be coming from whatever was within, but for some reason they didn't seem to be coming anywhere near him. He didn't particularly care why, just as long as they stayed well away.

“Okay, guys, I'm under the portal. Do I-- do I just jump up and into it? 'Cause I'm kind of at an awkward angle right now...”

From the sound of it, Michael was in the same boat. “Dude, it doesn't fucking matter, just go for it!”

“Just jump up as best you can,” said Ray calmly. “You feel dumb, but it worked, at least for me.”

Well, _that_ sounded promising. Might as well end on a high note. “Welp. I'm going for it. If you don't hear from me again, tell Gavin he can't have my car.”

He heard Gavin squawk something in the background. Smiling, he jumped as hard as he could...

He was through.


	2. Gavin and Ryan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins.

This was a disaster beyond anything he could possibly imagine. Gavin had fucked up before-- hell, they all had, Rooster Teeth was basically a company of fuckups-- but this was an utter catastrophe. Jack was stuck on a planet of lava. Michael and Geoff were frantically fleeing a storm of meteors that was destroying Austin. None of them had managed to successfully create a kernelsprite, except for Ray. And nobody had a clue how to play the game, aside from bits of information Gavin had gleaned from the Internet.

How was it possible that, just a few moments ago, he'd been having the time of his life?

His legs were burning as he traipsed up the seemingly-endless stairs. Michael had finally entered a few minutes ago, and Ryan was close behind. Geoff's voice, out-of-breath but considerably less shaky than it had been a few minutes ago, came through his headset. “I'm in, I'm in!”

Ray breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank fucking Christ.”

“I'm in too-- _ow_!” Michael's words were cut off by a yelp. “Ow, fucking hell, what did I just land on--”

“Gavin, aren't you in yet?”

“Not yet, I was waiting for Geoff to get through because of all the meteors, but I'm almost at the top of the tower now. Michael, how long did it take to get up there?”

“Just a few minutes, watch out for meteors. Fuck my fucking shins, god fucking dammit...”

“Jesus H. Christ,” said Geoff in amazement. “There's moss fucking everywhere here. Ray, does your weird sprite thingy have anything to say about this?”

“Hang on--” A voice said something muffled in the distance. “Well, he wants you to know first of all that he banged your mom three times last night, and also that your planet is called the Land of Moss and Frogs?”

“Uh.” Gavin could practically hear Geoff blinking in surprise. “All righty then. Great. What, exactly, am I supposed to do here?”

“Collect grist, I guess? To level up and shit. Get that power level to over 9000. Oh, and find your quest bed, that seems to be a big deal. No idea what it is, but apparently it is very important.”

“What, so we can have a nice little lie-down while the world is ending?” Gavin snapped. Why did this staircase have to be so goddamn high? There was an actual metric arseload of stairs between him and the portal, he was sure of it. “'Cause I can tell you right now, I've never felt less like sleeping in my entire life.”

Ray said something to his kernelsprite. “He won't tell me, says I'm not experienced enough yet, but I'm guessing it's not the kind of bed that you do a whole lot of sleeping in.”

“What other kind of bed is there?” Gavin's legs were burning, figuratively and literally-- meteors kept sparking past him and singeing holes in his trousers. There was still a good twenty-five meters between him and the portal. “Michael, what does your world look like?”

“It's...it's actually pretty goddamn gorgeous. The whole sky's all orange and pink and purple, and the ground is, like, crystal or something. Guess I lucked out. Haven't seen any aliens yet, though.”

“Yeah, Raysprite's telling me--”

Ryan cackled. “You named it _Raysprite_?”

Ray sounded a little sheepish. “Nobody said I had to be creative! I mean, it's a picture of me in there, right? So it looks like me, except for how it's kind of floating and ghostly--”

“Good Lord--” muttered Gavin.

“So I figured, why not Raysprite? Anyway, he says you've got the Land of Diamonds and Sunsets.”

Jack whistled. “Damn, dude, that's a band name if I ever heard one. Must be beautiful.”

Michael was silent for a few moments. Finally, Gavin heard him say quietly, almost to himself, “Fuck, I wish the others could be here to see this.”

he conversation grew quiet after that. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Gavin clambered up onto the top of the tower. There was no wind. There was no noise at all, except for the occasional scream of a meteor as it hurtled towards its final destination, and rumbling as they made contact with East Austin. Determined not to look at the carnage around him, he turned around to gaze at the portal. 

It was his responsibility. He was the one who'd found the game, who showed it to Michael and listened to Geoff about playing it together instead of throwing it into the Dumpster where it couldn't hurt anyone. He'd unleashed something beyond the expectations of even the craziest doomsday prophets. It couldn't be stopped; the only thing to do now was to play the game, and try to win.

“Lads, I'm going in.”

He swallowed and stepped to the edge of the tower.

“Once I'm in, that's all of us. Let's do this. Ray, you wanna do the honors?”

He could hear the smile in Ray's voice. “Sure thing, bro.”

Gavin grinned.

“Ready... _llllleeeeet's play_!”

He jumped. 

* * * * * *

redRoses [RR] began pestering Raysprite [RAYSPRITE] at 11:34–

RR: anything new my man?

RAYSPRITE: yeah i think your pal just entered the medium 

RAYSPRITE: took him long enough

RR: i got a lotta pals, you're gonna have to be more specific than that.

RAYSPRITE: the loud squawky one

RR: oh good, gavin finally decided to show up.

RR: so i think i get most of what you told me. enter the medium, fight monsters, ????, profit.

RR: oh yeah and find our quest bed at some point i guess.

RR: what is the deal with those anyway?

RAYSPRITE: man idk if youre ready to handle that yet

RAYSPRITE: tbh i thought you knew what you were getting into with this sburb isnt an ordinary game

RAYSPRITE: you guys are literally gonna be the saviors of the world dude but you gotta destroy it first youll see

RR: yeah well, tbh idk if i'm still willing to trust you yet, seeing as you apparently don't give a shit that our city's being destroyed and our friends are probably all going to die. hell, WE'RE probably all going to die. or at least we will if you don't help us! you're the only sprite we have! 

RAYSPRITE: hey i didnt ask for you to create me

RR: don't you fucking pull that card with me, buddy, i work with Gavin Free, king of whiners.

RR: or whingers as he calls them i guess.

RR: so quit fucking with me and let's start this again. what the hell is a quest bed and why should i give a shit about it?

RAYSPRITE: fine whatever dont say i didnt warn you

RAYSPRITE: after you defeat your land's monster, you need to find your quest bed and lie down on it.

RAYSPRITE: then you need to

RAYSPRITE: well

RAYSPRITE: die

RAYSPRITE: kill yourself, or have someone kill you, and then your dreamself will take over

RR: …

RR: what part of 'quit fucking with me' was incomprehensible to you?

RAYSPRITE: fuck you man i knew you werent ready for this

RAYSPRITE: i warned you dont turn this around on me

RR: what the hell is a dreamself?

RAYSPRITE: did i not tell you about that thing already

RAYSPRITE: about prospit and derse

RR: you're saying words and i don't understand what they mean!!!!

RAYSPRITE: guess not

RAYSPRITE: oops my bad

RR: i have never hated myself as much as i do right now.

RAYSPRITE: every time you go to sleep in this world you wake up on one of two planets that revolve around skaia

RAYSPRITE: you have another body there that you can walk around in on either prospit or derse

RAYSPRITE: from looking at you id guess youre a prospit dreamer but i really dont know im not very good at guessing those things

RAYSPRITE: oh yeah i probably should have told you this sooner but if you die before you get to your quest bed you can be revived if someone kisses you

RR: you are literally the worst guardian angel in the history of anything ever.

RAYSPRITE: hey i never claimed to be no angel bro

RAYSPRITE: so if you get to your questbed without a dreamself and die youll rise up and reach god tier

RR: then do i get to redeem my fucking prospit points or whatever for a pink cadillac? 

RAYSPRITE: no then you get a shit ton of really awesome powers depending on what your class and aspect are

RR: …

RR: fuck off.

RAYSPRITE: god dammit im not lying you asshole

RAYSPRITE: theres twelve different classes and twelve aspects

RAYSPRITE: each of you fit a certain class like knight or rogue or bard or whatever and an aspect like time or breath or heart

RR: heart? what the fuck is this, captain planet?

RR: man, i don't want to be heart, heart is the worst power.

RR: so how do i know what my class or aspect is?

RAYSPRITE: you dont know until you get to your quest bed

RAYSPRITE: at least one of you is gonna be space and another is gonna be time cause you need those aspects to beat the game but the rest of you could be any aspect

RR: fuck dude, i want superpowers, how do i find this thing?

RAYSPRITE: idk just look around i guess

RR: what do you mean, you don't know? aren't you supposed to be my guide?

RAYSPRITE: im not a goddamn search engine i dont know the exact details of everything on your dumb planet

RR: jeez okay sorry.

RR: i guess you have been pretty good about answering most of my questions. 

RAYSPRITE: damn right i was

RR: all right, i'll tell the others what you just told me, and then i guess i might as well start looking for my quest bed. 

RR: thanks for your help.

RAYSPRITE: later man

redRoses [RR] ceased pestering Raysprite [RAYSPRITE] at 11:50–

* * * * * *

 **Ryan**  
Screw roses and waterfalls. Ryan's land was the best land, without a doubt. Bright white orbs hung in the sky, rotating slowly around the planet and casting flickering shadows over the ground. A tiny narrow trail snaked through huge dense forests, which filled the air with the smell of pine needles and tree sap. He kicked a pinecone along the path, crunching gravel under his feet as Ray filled them in on everything he'd learned from his sprite. Assuming Ray wasn't completely bullshitting him-- and while ordinarily Ryan wouldn't put it past him, after everything that had happened today it seemed extremely unlikely-- this whole god-tier thing sounded cool as shit. _I wonder if you can choose your, what did he call it, class? I wanna be a prince of something. Or maybe a knight. Sounds fuckin' badass. I wonder if there's some kinda personality test to figure out what you are? Maybe there's an Sburb version of those stupid Buzzfeed quizzes that keep popping up on Facebook._

_Mooooooo._

Something nudged Ryan in the back, hard. Something very large and very warm and vaguely-- furry? 

“You've gotta be shitting me.”

“What's up?”

“Ray, you know how Raysprite told you we have consorts, which sounds super creepy, and how they're basically just animals that wander around our planet?”

“Yeah, I literally just told you that, you don't have to remind me.”

 _Moooooooooo_. More insistent butting. And were those...horns?

“Well, I'm pretty sure I'm living on a planet populated entirely by Edgars.”

“...Get the fuck outta here.” 

“I am serious as a heart attack, good buddy. Welcome to the land of Cows and Holes. In fact, standing next to me right now is Edgar himself. Say hello, Edgar.”

_Mooooo._

“Good fucking grief.”

“Good lord.” Gavin sounded as though he wasn't sure whether he should laugh or run screaming. “The Land of _Cows and Holes_? I'm with Geoff on this one, you're taking the piss.”

“Okay, before this gets any more fucked up than it already is, two things. One, Ryan, Raysprite says your land is _not_ the land of Cows and Holes, it's the Land of Moons and Pines--”

“Still infinitely cooler than _all_ of your lands, by the way--”

“-- and two, the cows are your consorts and under no circumstances are you to put any of them in holes. You're there to help them, they have a problem that can only be solved by you.”

“...What if their problem is that none of them are currently in holes?”

Silence from the other end of the line.

“Look, I'm just saying, we've been over this. Edgar is in there for _your_ protection. What if these cows are related to him or something? What if they _need_ to be imprisoned and that's the solution to this problem? Ever think of that, big shot?”

“Whoaaa, fighting words from Ryan the Moon Guy, better watch out there, Ray...”

“Whatever, dude, I'm just repeating what my sprite told me, maybe yours will say something else. Oh yeah, that's right, _I'm_ the only one who managed to prototype mine, that's right.”

“Not my fault that Creepersprite exploded, maybe if Jack hadn't gotten so close to it, he wouldn't have made it angry--”

“Whoa, whoa, don't drag _me_ into this--”

“Just saying, man, don't aggro creepers in real life, it doesn't end well.”

“No shit, Sherlock, whose bright idea was it to prototype something that explodes literally the moment it comes into contact with anything moving?”

Edgar mooed yet again and licked Ryan's hand, making him jump. 

“Hey, buddy, whatcha got there...?”

The cow bent his neck and dropped something at Ryan's feet: a spray of silver pine needles, glittering in the moonlight. 

“Wow, Edgar, what a thoughtful gift. Thank you so much.”

“Did he shit on you? Tell me he took a shit on you. Good job, Edgar, way to follow the plan, I'll get you a carrot when I see you next time.”

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint, but all he did was drop this weird-looking branch on my foot. Edgar, buddy, it's real pretty and all, but I can't really use this...”

“Maybe it's got something to do with your quest? Either that, or he just really likes you, for some unbelievable reason.” 

“I'm gonna go ahead and ignore your second comment there, Mikey-wikey. Jesus, this thing weighs a ton, it's gotta be solid silver. What the hell is going on...”

“Dude, you should bring it back to Austin, you could make a fortune off of it. Especially if Edgar brings you any more. That shit's a great conductor. Maybe Gus could melt it down and do some techie stuff with it. Get us a better router like he's been talking about.”

Ryan felt the smile slide off his face. _Gus..._ “...Austin's gone, remember?” 

There was a pause, and then Michael continued as if Ryan hadn't spoken at all. “Or maybe we could buy a new couch for the podcast set, Burnie's been bugging us about it for ages.”

Ryan let it go. It was probably better not to think about it too much. “...Anyway, who would even buy this much silver? And why would a tree like this even exist? A trunk made entirely out of silver...how would it even hold itself up? It'd collapse under its own...weight...”

He trailed off as a thought occurred to him. He took a few steps back off the trail and scanned the forest around him, looking slightly off-center to compensate for the lack of light: the moons were less helpful and more blindingly bright than anything else. At first glance, all the trees looked perfectly healthy: tall, green spruces and firs and pines, towering above him. Then he spotted it-- another silver tree, lying on the ground on the side of the path, crushing the smaller trees around it. It was clearly dead, the ground around it covered with needles and its branches naked and shattered. About fifty feet to the right lay another one, and another further down.

_Mooooo._

Edgar looked up at him with big, sad eyes.

Michael was saying something in Ryan's ear. “Weight? What the hell am I waiting for? I wait for no man, Ryan, Mogar has shit to do and monsters to fight--”

“No, _weight_ , dumbass. A bunch of the trees are turning silver and dying, and I think the cows need them because they live in the forest. Dammit, I wish these guys could talk, it'd make everything so much easier--”

“Dude, believe me, you do _not_ want them to talk, I can't get mine to shut up!” Angry peeping nearly drowned out the sound of Geoff's voice. “I wish I had your problem!”

“What have you got there, Geoff?”

“Frogs, and a goddamn assload of them from the sound of it.”

“Huh, that's weird, mine are really quiet, I wonder what the deal is with that...Jack, what are yours?”

“Hang on, Michael,” Gavin interrupted. “It'd be easier if we just all went around and listed our lands and consorts, and Ray can confirm it with his sprite. That way we can get a bit of an idea of how far everyone is in the game.”

“Roger that,” Ray said. “I'm Roses and Waterfalls, and there's a bunch of snakes around that I really hope aren't poisonous, 'cause I definitely have one sitting on my wrist right now. Manliest bracelet ever. Fuckin' check this shit out.”

“Right--”

“I call dibs on Ray's apartment when he dies!”

“Too late, I already told Jack he could have it. Go on, Gavin.”

“Well, I am on the Planet of Pimps. There is gold bloody all over the ground, and all the rivers and stuff are all weird and silvery.”

“That would be the Land of Silver and Gold,” Ray told him.

“ _Seriously_?” Gavin sounded vaguely disappointed. “That's so _boring_ , I was hoping for, I dunno, Land of Gold and Mercury, that'd be top...”

“No one cares, Gavvy-wavvy.”

Gavin gave a long, put-upon sigh. “Fiiiiine. Jack, what's your land called?”

“Already told you. The Land of Lava and Fuck Me. Although I do hear some kind of chiming in the distance, which is a little weird for a planet full of volcanoes. Haven't seen any animals yet, though, probably because of all the lava and shit.”

“Yeah, Raysprite says that's the Land of Lava and Bells. Close, but no cigar. And we already have Ryan's, Geoff's and Michael's lands down...hey, Michael, what animals do you have?”

“Uhh-- fuck if I know, I haven't seen anything anywhere yet-- holy shit!”

“You okay there?”

“Yeah, something just dropped out of a tree and landed in my hair...looks like a little-- lizard? Weird. Ew, his feet are all sticky.”

“Is it a gecko?”

“Well, gee, Ryan, I'll just consult my mental Ouija board to tell me what a gecko looks like, because it's not like I went to snake...person...school or anything--”

“You mean herpetological school?”

“Does it sound like I give a fuck?”

“Well, geckoes have smooth skin and their feet help them climb trees, so I'm guessing that's probably what you have. But then again, I didn't go to _snake person school_ either.”

“There you go, Gavin, Ryan the Herpawhatever Guy says I have geckoes.”

“I think mine are ducks, there's bloody _loads_ of them quacking away in my ear right now, and frankly I am rather minged off. Ducks are dumb, I want something cool like lizards or snakes. Or hedgehogs, I've always wanted a little hedgehog for a pet.”

“What, you want a bunch of Sonics running around squeaking in your ears?”

“Hey, Sonic was a great game! God _damn_ , these things are loud, I can't tell if they like me or if they're mad about something.”

“Well, everyone's always mad at you, Gavin, so it's probably that...”

“Maybe they think I'm you, Ryan, come to imprison them.”

“Aaaanyway, Ray, so I've got geckoes, Jack has-- something, we don't know what yet, Gavin's got squirrels, Geoff has frogs--”

_Mooooo._

“--Ryan's got cows and you have snakes. It's a fucking zoo up here, good grief. And I'm pretty sure I'm walking on something that's worth more than everyone in Austin combined. The entire _ground_ is diamond here. Slippery as hell, too.”

“Michael, if you and me and Ryan ever make it back to Earth we should bring some of this stuff with us. We'd be rich! You could buy a new Xbox One each for you and Lindsay and I could get that Mario Kart track installed in my backyard--”

“Fuck yeah, let's do it! Ouch, shit, these rocks are so goddamn shitty and easy to trip on. I might break my neck before I ever make it back.”

“At least you have something solid to walk in,” said Geoff sourly. “My feet are going to be permanently waterlogged from all this moss.”

“Oi, come on, Michael, at least send us a picture or something, it sounds gorgeous.”

“Yeah, yeah, I will, I just want to-- oh, fuck-- _fuuuuuuuuuck _\--”__

__A crunching noise came from Ryan's earpiece. _Oh shit.__ _

__“Michael? Michael, what happened? Answer me, buddy, you there?”_ _

__“Fuck, he must have slipped and hit his head--”_ _

__“Seriously, Michael, you've been there for all of fifteen minutes and you've already knocked yourself out? I expected that from Gavin, not you.”_ _

__“Ignoring for the moment your very high opinion of me, Jack, maybe we should be a _little_ concerned, given that he just vanished without a trace, and he's all by himself.” _ _

__This was going from bad to worse. As of yet, the six of them were staying fairly calm, but Ryan knew things would get ugly very fast if they continued to bottle up their feelings, especially so soon after watching the obliteration of Austin. Then he had an idea. “Who was his server player? You should have an image of him on your phone, like a livestream. Gavin, I think that was you-- pull it up, he's probably fine, just stuck in a hole or something like an idiot.”

__“Yeah, hang on...here we are. I don't know if you can see, but he's just lying on the ground. Ray, I think you were right, he must have tripped and hit his head. He was saying it was slippery. ”_ _

__Geoff sighed. “Well, it's not the worst that could happen, I guess. I don't think there's a way we can get to him right now, though, so just keep an eye on him, Gavin. Let us know when he wakes up.”_ _

__“He's probably fine,” offered Ray. “He's got that thick Jersey skull. Dumbass just wasn't looking where he was going.”_ _

__“Yeah...”_ _

__Gavin didn't sound convinced. For that matter, neither was Ryan, but there wasn't anything they could do about it for the moment. “All right, guys. Race you to your quest beds. Last one there has to talk like Randy Newman for the rest of the day.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this hasn't been beta'd, so if you see any glaring errors, please let me know!


	3. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael wakes up in an unfriendly place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: Blood, some violence.

_Oh, fuck me with a rake. I knock myself out like the piece of shit I am and wake up in a room that looks like Barney the dinosaur barfed all over it._

Michael sat up. His head felt very strange. It _wanted_ to ache— in fact, it was very adamant that it _did_ \-- and it firmly believed that there was a sizable lump on the back of his head. But when he reached up to feel it gingerly, there was nothing out of the ordinary, just smooth skin. Slowly, he turned his head from side to side, expecting dizziness, but the room stayed perfectly still. This was definitely not the gorgeous, fiery planet he had gone to sleep in. It was almost identical to his room back on Earth, except for one small difference: this one had the interior decorating scheme of Martha Stewart on a rampage with purple paint.

_Am I having a stroke?_

Instinctively, he reached for his glasses on the table next to him, only to find that they were perched firmly on his face. No wonder everything wasn't blurry. Now that he could see, it was probably a good idea to take some kind of inventory while his brain tried to unscramble itself. What the hell was he wearing? His jeans had turned into some kind of weird satiny material, the same shade of violet as everything else in the room. His T-shirt, formerly blue and emblazoned with a sword and the words _Mogar is Ready_ , was now soft and velvety, more like a weird Game of Thrones-esque doublet than an actual shirt. The only thing unchanged were his sneakers-- still the same ratty Adidas with fraying laces and peeling soles. 

Somehow, that reassured him. That, and the fact that his earpiece was still lodged in his ear. _Raysprite, you've got some explaining to do. Actually, can they even hear me? I should probably check first..._

“Uh, guys?”

Silence.

“Geoff? ...Gavin? Seriously, you guys are assholes, quit fucking around with me and say something.”

Dammit. The speakers were clearly functional-- the green light was on-- but for whatever reason, he was cut off from the rest of the Achievement Hunters. It wasn't until he took both earbuds out and began whacking them against the nightstand that he heard it: a faint murmuring. He put the earbuds down and peered out the massive window next to the bed. 

“Holy _shit_!”

Michael was in a goddamn tower. No, not a tower, a _spire_ , one that jutted nearly fifty or sixty feet off the ground with a wide view of miles of purple buildings lining the streets below the black, starless void above him. The murmur had developed into a full-fledged hubbub, and he was fairly sure the crowd was in the streets below his tower, but he couldn't tell: although everything else in his room was just like his one back on Earth, there was one window that was utterly different, and of course it had to be the only one that faced the street. It was designed in such a way that even Michael, all five foot nine of him, could barely see anything out of it aside from the tops of nearby buildings. All in all, it was possibly the most impractically designed window he had ever encountered. 

_The architect for this place should be shot. I wonder if I can stand on the bed or something to get a better view..._

He hopped up onto the mattress, shoes and all, mentally wincing at the thought of what his mom would say to see him putting his grubby shoes all over the nice silk sheets. _Excellent_. The bedframe provided him with a perfect view of the city. He could see hundreds of tiny people milling about below, talking and waving-- posters, or some kind of large white things, he couldn't quite tell. He stepped back onto the mattress to try to see more, and promptly lost his balance as his feet sank into the squishy cushions. Frantically, he windmilled his arms to try to stop himself from falling, and managed to catch himself on the windowsill. 

_Well, shit._

Now he was stuck at an awkward angle with his feet on the bedframe and his arms pushed against the windowsill. The only way out was to try once more to push himself upright, or jump off the bed entirely and try to avoid injuring himself yet again. _Dammit, I wanna see what's going on out there...maybe I can get a better glimpse of what they're doing if I jump high enough. Might as well give it a shot._

He pushed back from the windowsill and leaped off the bed, into the air, as high as he could-- and immediately realized it wasn't going to work.

_Welp. This is gonna hurt._

Seconds ticked by before he realized that he was bracing himself for a landing that would never occur. He was floating about six inches off the floor, bobbing lightly up and down in midair. He could see his untied shoelaces, orange and frayed, clashing violently with the purple carpet. 

For half a moment, Michael forgot to be surprised. In less than twenty-four hours, he had already watched the destruction of his city via meteors from another world, traveled through an inter-dimensional portal to his very own custom-designed planet, and ten minutes ago had woken up in a castle on yet another world after knocking himself out on a rock worth more than all of Apple and Microsoft put together. Now he had somehow accidentally learned to fly. It was just too goddamn much to process. In fact, he wanted to sit down and _not_ process it, very hard, for a good half an hour or so, but now he couldn't even sit down.

So instead, he started to laugh. Because, yeah, he was on his own on an alien planet, with no means of defending himself and probably no way to get back to his friends. 

_But I can fly._

“I can fly,” he said out loud. Then-- “I can fly, I can _fucking fly_ , out of the way, motherfuckers, Mogar's coming, he's angry, and gravity is his _bitch_! Faster than a speeding bullet--”

Well, not _that_ fast, apparently. He willed himself into motion, to float higher or move forwards or do something other than bob in midair like a goddamn rabbit, but despite his best efforts he only succeeded in doing a sort of awkward half-somersault, whacking his head on the end table next to his bed. “Fuck!”

His head rang, with real pain now as well as the strange phantom ache from earlier. Michael's temper, already frayed, began to snap; furious with the ridiculous layout of the room, and at his own inability to master what appeared to be the relatively simple art of levitation, he lashed out against the wall, hitting it with both his palms in an attempt to get himself moving. 

It worked immediately, perhaps a little too well. He was launched across the room, through the open door, into a landing above a set of lavender-colored marble stairs. They led down towards a set of enormous double doors, which had been propped open by something he couldn't quite make out. His momentum carried him over the staircase and through the doors, into a massive hallway. _Oh, shit._ As he sailed through the corridor, it occurred to him that he could, potentially, keep going forever: an unstoppable force with no immovable object to halt his progress.

Except for that one.

“Oof!”

_Who puts a column in the middle of a corridor? Fuckin' shitty interior designers._

It was enormous, like everything else in the tower: a colossal Grecian column, lined with engraved symbols spiralling across the top and bottom. Peeling himself off of it-- his head really was taking a beating today-- he hovered in place, taking the opportunity to examine the space around him. Between the columns, the floor was lined with velvet carpeting, stretching the length of the corridor. The walls curved up to meet in an arch, a good hundred feet high or so, and were draped with pale purple banners emblazoned with a crescent moon. The whole room radiated strength and power, dwarfing the viewer through its sheer magnitude of size. Michael gazed around the room, absorbed in his observations, not realizing that he was drifting forward slowly until he bounced gently off of something-- no, some _one_. “Oh shit, sorry, didn't see you there--”

It turned around, and Michael had to stifle a yell of surprise. A skeletal black creature stood in front of him, in a purple smock and what looked like a pair of breeches. More insect-like than humanoid, it was covered in some kind of shiny exoskeleton, like armor. The only thing that gave it away as sentient were its eyes: huge and utterly black, but with an intelligent spark in their depths that gave it the appearance of emotion. 

Michael opened his mouth, a million questions racing through his head-- _Who are you? What the hell is this place? Why can I fly? How the fuck do I get out of here?_ But before he could voice any of them, the black...thing had grabbed his hand and was looking up at him, astonished.

“Knight? What in the worlds are you doing here, you need to get away, she's looking for you and she'll stop at nothing--”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about? Who's looking for me?”

“The Black Queen, sir-- she knows you and your compatriots have entered the Medium, and that you're awake at last. She's furious, sir, wants every one of you dead, but you especially! Please, you have to go back, lock yourself away and don't let anyone know you're here--”

“Hang on, you know my friends? Where are they? I need to see them-- I need to get back to my planet-- who _are_ you? How the hell do you know all this?”

The creature stared. “Sir, your friends are already here, or two of them, at least. The other Derse dreamers? Pray that their dreamselves haven't woken up yet, or she'll be on the hunt for them, too...”

“Derse Dreamers? What the fuck is that, a band?”

“It's this planet, sir. Derse, one of Skaia's moons. I live here, and so do the dreamselves of you and your two companions-- the tall skinny one, and the older one, with the strange hair on his face--”

“ _Gavin_? Gavin and Geoff?”

He hadn't realized just how much he missed his friends until now, dropped into the middle of a place where everyone knew his name despite the fact that he had no clue what was going on. The only thing he knew was that he now had to run for his life from an unknown deadly enemy while surrounded by aliens that looked like the creepy chess pieces come to life. It hadn't even occurred to him to wonder if the other Achievement Hunters were still alive, but now that he knew that at least two of them were-- or at the very least, that their “dreamselves” were-- he wanted desperately to see them, to listen to Gavin shriek made-up words in frustration at a dumb game, to hear Geoff's voice crack as he laughed at one of Ray's deadpan comments. 

But he couldn't afford to be sentimental now, not when he'd finally found a decent source of information. He shoved his emotions aside and focused on figuring out what the hell was going on. “Gavin and Geoff are here? Where are they?” 

“Probably in their own towers, sir-- I don't know, sir, I'm just a carapacian, I was only told that our Knight had awoken and that we had to protect you at all costs--”

Michael groaned inwardly. Well, it was probably better that he didn't find them. By the sound of it, things were a lot safer there than they were out here. “Okay, for starters, I can't even begin to pronounce that, so do you have a name or something? Al? Steve? Captain Kirk? And why do you keep calling me 'knight'”?

“Surely you know, sir?” It was looking at him, disbelieving, and Michael shook his head. “You're the Knight of Rage, one of the most powerful active classes in all the worlds. You are the protector, the fighter-- if you were to ascend, and rally against her as a fully realized Hero, she would hardly stand a chance, especially not if you were to join with your fellow teammates! Now please, let's go-- we need to hurry to get you back to your tower before she finds us-- can't you fly any faster?”

Michael scowled. “Not really, no! I just woke up here, buddy, I have no idea what's going on or what a Knight of Rage is or how I'm supposed to fucking fly. All I did was jump off the bed and next thing I know I'm here and you're telling me I'm Public Enemy Number One--”

It sighed. “I suppose I shouldn't bother asking what happened to your poor kernelsprite, then. Here-” --he grabbed Michael's hand-- “--follow me,” and he began to sprint down the hall, pulling Michael after him. “Through these doors, this will take you back to your tower. I can't follow you up there, you have to go yourself-- go and stay in the tower, and _don't come out_. No matter what you hear, you _must not come out_. She can't get you in there, it's protected. Go back to sleep and stay on your home planet for as long as possible until you ascend, and don't let any of your friends wake up! You-- oh _no_...”

_Thud._

The double doors that they were flying towards slammed shut in their faces. At the other end of the hall, the opposite pair did the same. The banners hanging on the walls fluttered in the sudden draft. The room was silent, except for the frightened whispers from various other carapacians, huddled close together and muttering nervously.

“ _She's_ here,” his companion whispered, his voice cracking in fear. He yanked Michael behind one of the columns next to the door. 

Peering around the stone spire, Michael could see a shadow looming across the hall, growing larger as it resolved itself into a tall, spindly black shape, like a bigger version of the creatures in the room. A glint of metal shone on its-- her-- side; as she stalked slowly down the hall towards Michael and his terrified companion, her dress shifted to reveal a sword. Flanking her were guards, their garish red outfits a stark contrast to the Black Queen's dress, which seemed to suck all the light out of the room. They, too, carried swords, but where the Queen's was slender and elegant like its bearer, theirs were thick and wide, with long wicked-looking curves at the end.

Michael was staring his death in the face. In the world of Minecraft-- hell, in the world of most seedy New Jersey bars-- he would've had at least a small chance of escaping alive. Maybe with a few extra bruises, but with all of his limbs more or less intact. Here, he was toast, and he knew it. There was no way he'd be able to outrun or out-fight three trained soldiers. But he'd be damned if he was going to roll over and surrender like a good boy. Not if Mogar had anything to say about it, at the very least. 

“Listen, uh, Mr. Carapace, or whatever your name is,” he whispered as quietly as he could, “ _run_ , okay, buddy? I can't help you here. Save yourself. She won't see you if you make a break for it now.”

“You are a true Knight to say such things,” it murmured, “but I am not leaving you to face her alone. My duty is to this planet and to its saviors. If I have to die to protect you, then so be it.”

“Fuck _that_! Get the fuck out of here! You're a brave son of a bitch, and you protected me great up until now, but you can't do jack here. Go live to fight another day. Protect my friends, okay, just please, run--”

“I will not!”

Michael wanted to scream with frustration. “Mother _fucker_...okay, you know what, fine. Be that way. As your knight, I am telling you to _get the fuck out of Dodge, now_ , or I will personally punt your shiny ass through those doors myself.”

“But--”

“ _I will fucking do it don't think I won't, I've done it before._ ”

The carapacian bowed his head. “As you wish, sir.” 

Then finally, _finally_ , he turned and fled. 

_Thank Christ_. The last thing Michael needed right now was to watch somebody else die for him, especially when it was clearly a futile effort. If he wasn't very, very lucky, the Queen and her entourage would rip him apart six ways from Sunday; there was no need for them to get a double kill thanks to the useless bravery of an unknown pawn.

The Queen was sixty feet away from him when he felt his feet gently touch the floor. Apparently whatever fueled his newfound antigravity powers decided to quit out when it realized he didn't have much longer to live. So much for the idea of flying away. Probably wouldn't have worked anyway, I couldn't even figure out how it functioned in the first place. Now there really was nowhere to go: her guards had flanked him, one on each side, blocking all escape routes. _Yeah, she's probably gonna kill me. I was never the lucky one...at the very least, I can piss her off first. Jack always said that's what I do best..._

“Hey, bitch,” he said loudly. “You walk like someone took a flaming torch and stuck it up your ass. Why don't you get over here and fight me already? I mean, I know your sword's pretty shitty, and you needed to bring two other douchebags to take me down, but I'll go easy on you. Maybe you'll still have all your limbs by the time we're through. But if I'm being realistic-- probably not.”

He heard her hiss angrily, and stepped out to meet her in the open. They locked eyes, looking each other up and down. The Queen's gaze was cold and alien, with none of the intelligent warmth that the other carapacian had possessed. But her demeanor changed utterly when she began to laugh, long and loud, the sound ringing through the hall. A few onlookers-- stray carapacians who either served her, or were too dumb to run at the sight of the slaughtered corpses-- gave startled gasps. 

“Look at you, you poor pathetic thing,” she said, still chuckling. “No weapons. No armor. No way of escaping. You haven't even ascended. Once we kill you here, it will be a simple matter to find your body in the Incipisphere and end your miserable excuse for a life. None of you even know what you're doing-- I'm amazed none of you have died already. If we're lucky, maybe your friends will do our job for us.”

 _Oh_ , bad move, _sister_. “Listen, lady, I don't know what your beef with me is. And you're probably right, I might not get out of this alive, but to be honest I don't really care. But if you touch my friends-- if your shitty fucking guards so much as _sweat_ within a hundred-mile radius of them-- I will do things to your entourage that would make Ted Bundy barf his fucking brains out.”

“Your friends are already dead,” she spat. “I have every one of my guards searching the whole of Derse and Propsit. None of them have been as idiotic as you, getting up and leaving their tower, but once we find them-- and we _will_ find them-- we will drive spears and blades and bullets through each of their hearts. Then there will be nothing left of your little band of 'hunters', and nothing standing in the way of our victory.”

Michael just laughed. “Seriously? Do you know how many times we've cheated death? I think Gavin flips it off once or twice a week whenever he and Dan shoot videos, and you should hear Geoff talk about some of his plane stories, he's gotta be the luckiest guy in the world. And this planet's got nothing on South Jersey, there are drive-by shootings at least two or three times a month on my street--”

The Queen's face was developing the same look that he sometimes saw on Burnie's face when Gavin asked a particularly Gavin-esque question. _Time to bail_. “Basically, what I'm saying here is that you have roughly the same chance of beating us as Caleb does of getting laid. Or Barbara does of making a decent pun for once. _You're not going to win_.”

“But you'll never know, will you? Because you'll be long dead and gone. And I'll make sure each and every one of them sees your broken body.”

With those last few words, she had advanced further, forcing him to retreat until he had his back flat against the wall. _Crap. Shoulda booked it when I had the chance. Next time, shut your damn mouth for a minute, Michael..._ He glanced around for an opening. Nothing...nothing...there-- Guard No. 2 had just shifted left, leaving a gap between him and the Black Queen. Michael threw himself at it, landing in a roll, and with a rustle of fabric and armor, he was through.

Fuck yeah. He sprinted across the room, running, running--

The bullet seared into his lower back, severing a vertebra. His legs collapsed underneath him and he went sprawling in a haze of adrenaline and pain. His whole upper stomach was a mess of tangled white-hot agony, but below that, there was nothing: just a spreading pool of wetness under him, growing larger by the second. 

The last thing he saw was a shadowy figure advancing towards his tower.

_Not them, please not them-- Jack, Ryan-- Gavin-- no--_

Then everything went black.

* * * * * *

-pyrotechnicArchitect began pestering causticTranquility at 1:30 –

PA: it's official, i've completely lost my mind.

CT: Geoff, that's implying you ever had one to begin with. What's wrong now?

PA: have i mentioned the talking frogs on my planet yet?

PA: because there are definitely talking frogs. well, one specifically. it's like a god damn disney movie in here, jack.

CT: ...Well, what's it telling you?

PA: something about stoking the fires of the universe and building a new civilization.

PA: sounds pretty gay to me.

CT: Ah, yes, the gays are well-known for their godlike powers when it comes to the creation of worlds.

PA: exactly.

PA: pat robertson had it all wrong. the gays are all about CREATING the fabric of civilization, not destroying it.

PA: anyway i guess here's this thing called the Forge that i'm supposed to be tending? or feeding? but jiminy cricket won't tell me how, or what the hell it even is.

CT: Hold up, how come you're the only one that has talking consorts? My bats won't say shit to me.

PA: you have bats?

CT: Did I not mention that? Yeah, I have bats.

CT: You could even say I have bats in my belfry.

PA: …

CT: Get it? Because of the bells?

PA: you know, i've always wondered what that phrase meant.

PA: anyway, i dunno, they called me a “space player” and said that's why i have to move stuff around the universe or some shit. 

CT: Sounds like a pretty sweet gig.

CT: You are become Geoff, creator of worlds.

PA: heh heh heh.

PA: hey ray just popped up in my chatlist, i'm gonna pester him and see if he can make raysprite tell me anything. i might be afk for a bit.

CT: No worries. I'll probably take a look around my land a bit more, see if I can figure out what I'm supposed to be doing. I don't think I have a quest, but I should probably do something about all this lava.

PA: how do you know you don't have a quest?

CT: I dunno, it just feels like I don't. 

CT: I think maybe Ryan does, though? And you, of course.

PA: man okay, that's really weird, because gavin pinged me like half an hour ago going on about how his ducks were talking to him and the “stars were going out”, it was creepy as dicks.

CT: Welp.

PA: all right, mr. psychic. if you're so good, what did i eat for breakfast this morning?

CT: First, I'm not psychic, it's just a hunch. Second, I can answer that without thinking about it. Pop-Tarts and a shot of Jack Daniels.

PA: fair enough.

PA: then what the hell did frog and toad mean by me being a space player? 

CT: Well, it's your aspect, isn't it?

PA: is it?

CT: You know, Space, Breath, Blood, all that jazz. Each of us has an aspect that represents us. Weren't you there when Ray was talking about it?

PA: ray didn't mention any of that stuff, jack.

PA: he said we each had classes, and aspects, but he didn't say what they were called.

CT: Uhh.

CT: Hmmm.

PA: you're scaring me a little bit there man.

CT: I probably just read it in the manual or something.

PA: there IS no manual! we've been over this! you think a game like this has a GameFAQs page?

CT: You asked, dude, I answered. I don't know how I know this stuff. Maybe it's got something to do with my aspect, like Raysprite was talking about?

PA: ok what the hell is your aspect then because it's creeping me out.

CT: We probably have to ascend to find out for sure.

CT: Unless you're lucky enough to have a spirit guide like Ray, apparently.

PA: ok here's what i'm gonna do.

PA: i'll talk to raysprite and figure out what the hell is going on with this game and what we're supposed to do here.

PA: then i'm gonna open up a chat room so we can all hear what he's got to say so i don't have to relay it between five other fucking people

CT: Roger that. I'll just keep exploring this place for now. Let me know if you hear anything.

\- pyrotechnicArchitect ceased pestering causticTranquility at 1:45 –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pesterlog formatting sucks big ole dicks so i'm not gonna deal with it hahahaha sorry guys
> 
> also i made a little [guide thing here](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/post/92002748704/quick-list-for-ocean-stars-falling-on-the-various) for you so if you're confused by lands and pesterchum handles and stuff this should help


	4. Gavin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin makes a new friend.

It doesn't seem fair, being given a mouth that has so much to say, and then getting a brain that bungles it all up. Gavin knows he's smart, he's been told it before, but he can't ever seem to explain himself well enough to convince most people. He has a lot of good ideas-- he really does-- and yet somewhere along the pathway between the neurons in his brain and his vocal cords, something happens that makes it all turn into word vomit. It can get ridiculously frustrating at times, but he tries not to take it too seriously. Usually he just joins in with Burnie and Gus' hysterical laughter whenever he says something stupid on the podcast.

And sometimes it works in his favor. It's a lot easier to act like a goofball all the time. He doesn't have to work as hard, and everyone underestimates him, so he can catch them by surprise. Truth be told, he likes making people laugh-- seeing Kara burst into a fit of giggles, or watching Michael wrestle with a smile that he's desperately trying to keep off his face, is worth ten minutes of trying to explain why shooting the walls of his new house with a paintball gun is a much more efficient method than the normal way of painting. And nearly everyone at the company has a fantastic sense of humor. It's part of the reason he loves working at Rooster Teeth so much.

So Gavin tries not to think too hard about this game. It ended up being more incredible than he'd ever imagined, and even though he knows deep in his heart of hearts that this, all of this, is his fault for not throwing the game away when he first got hold of it, he does his best to find the lighter side. Because if he lets it all out, he'll implode in a cacophony of emotion that he can't afford to deal with right now. He pushes it all to the back of his mind, chains it away in an old crate labeled “RUBBISH, DO NOT TOUCH”, and turns his attention back to the present.

Hmmm. He sure is carrying a lot of crap right now. How is it that his inventory in games always ends up so full of useless items? He's not gonna need ninety percent of this stuff, and he chucks it away, everything except his phone, his iPad and his headset. The latter is one of his most treasured possessions-- except for his cameras-- bulky but sturdy, able to withstand Gavin-level clumsiness. Especially given his propensity towards losing small objects, it's definitely a better option than those wireless earbuds Michael is so proud of. 

Speaking of Michael, he should probably check on his boi.

The stream's still loaded on his phone somehow: just another weird phenomenon that he tries to avoid thinking about. Michael's still in the same position, sprawled on his side on the brilliant multifaceted surface of his planet. There's a little bit of dried blood crusted on the side of his head, not enough to be concerning, but enough that it still makes Gavin nervous. Initially, after it was clear that Michael wasn't going to wake up for a good long while, he was a little concerned: shouldn't he have woken up by now? Wasn't it bad when people stayed unconscious for a long time after a concussion? But a little later he'd seen Michael tossing and turning on the ground-- not a lot, just little twitches every now and then, his eyes flickering under the lids. Gavin's no doctor, but he's pretty sure that's a good sign, or at least a better sign. 

He still wishes Michael would just wake up already, though.

Oh, look at that, he's twitching now, and muttering something indistinct. His mouth forms the word “fuck” three times and “bitch” once. Gavin's caught him arguing in his sleep before, multiple times, to the surprise of absolutely nobody (except Michael himself). Gavin and Kerry used to egg him on whenever Michael fell asleep after long nights of drunken Halo matches. Whenever Michael said something, Kerry would make loud noises of disagreement and Gavin would back him up, watching Michael's face get redder and redder as he carried on an incoherent debate with an unseen opponent. He's filmed it on more than one occasion, but Kerry always persuaded him to not upload it, claiming they could use it as blackmail material later on. Hopefully that's all that's happening here; sleep-arguing always seemed to put Michael in a better mood the next day. Maybe getting all that anger out was good for him.

There's a muffled sound of glass on glass from his left, followed by loud quacking. The monsters-- the imps, Jack called them-- had apparently followed him from Earth to his planet; he thought he had lost them half an hour ago, but they seem to be quite good at tracking players. Unlike Ray's weird, thorn-covered ones, Gavin's imps are black crystal, like lumps of onyx with legs. It makes them a pain in the arse to kill, as they're hard as rocks (inwardly, he groans-- Barbara would be so proud), but they shatter in an impressive way when he manages to land a hit. 

Here they come again, like a horde of Minecraft zombies. But if there's one thing sandbox games have taught him, it's that getting a decent weapon is the most important thing when starting a new level. The Tower's lying on the ground next to him. When he picks it up, it's warm to the touch from lying in the sun. It's a long, vaguely rectangular lump, surprisingly light considering it's composed almost entirely of gold with silver at its end. Maybe he could've chosen a more badass weapon, like Jack's sweet axe, or a more elegant one, like Ray's vine of roses, but it makes such a satisfying swoosh through the air that he can't help but like it. Plus, it reminds him that he's part of a team, a crew, something that he sometimes forgets, especially when he's by himself. The Tower's as much a symbol of his friends as it is a deadly weapon.

The first imp bursts into grist as soon as gold meets multifaceted hide. It and the pile of grist vanish into thin air as soon as he gets near it. It's bizarre, the way the game mechanics and the real world have overlapped. Kind of like the movie version of Scott Pilgrim. Ryan's face must have been priceless, the first time he started collecting grist. Good old Ryan, the Science Guy, who believed there was an explanation for everything and could never bring himself to admit that sometimes, just sometimes, the impossible could come true. Thinking of his friend, creepy murderous bastard that he was, makes Gavin's chest ache; he wishes, not for the first time, that the six of them could be together on one planet fighting against the enemy, instead of scattered across a new universe. Well. There's nothing that can be done about it now. Ryan's the last person he should be concerned about-- he's probably already on a killing spree.

Wave after wave of crystal mooks swarm over the golden hills, and Gavin's leveling up like a bloody champ. Maybe he should be using this grist for something...eh, probably, but who cares, really. All he wants is to get enough experience so he can get his superpowers and beat the game. Not that he's actually certain how he's supposed to win, but it's the first step to undoing the horrific destruction caused by his dumb ass opening that stupid box all those weeks ago. Finally, the last imp explodes, and Gavin's left standing in a pile of grist, leaning on the Tower and breathing hard.

Ping.

He jumps about a foot in the air. Geoff's sent him a message-- at least he's pretty sure it's Geoff, he's never actually used this particular client before. In fact, he can barely remember anyone's screen name. What's he on about now?

\-- pyrotechnicArchitect began pestering visionaryPhantom at 2:00 -- 

PA: hey gavin, how are you doing?

VP: im fuck deep in ducks and monsters right now thanks for asking

VP: i had no idea they could be this loud. geoff who decided to make ducks so noisy

PA: that's a discussion you're gonna have to have with the man upstairs.

VP: who burnie

PA: no, god, dipshit.

PA: anyway, i'm opening a group chat because basically none of us know what we're doing and ray's the only source of reliable info right now.

PA: and it's impossible to keep relaying messages between six people.

VP: you mean to say you dont like being our messenger pigeon

VP: youre like an owl like in harry potter

PA: hoot hoot, motherfuckers.

PA: get your ass in there when i invite you.

\-- pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] has opened group memo [ACHIEVEMENT HUNTER GROUP CHAT] –-  
\- paternalRogue [PR] has joined the memo! –  
\- redRoses [RR] has joined the memo! –  
\- visionaryPhantom [VP] has joined the memo! –  
\- causticTranquility [CT] has joined the memo! – 

PR: Dude. This is a shitty name for a group chatroom.

PR: You made us all drop what we were doing and join this thing and you can't even be bothered to call it something decent?

PA: well excuuuuse me, princess.

VP: did jack come up with this name

CT: Hey!

PA: no, dickbutt, it's a perfectly reasonable name. it's exactly what it says on the tin.

RR: how about “the shag tent”?

CT: You call everything the shag tent.

VP: “geoffs house of dicks”

VP: or the straightforward route

VP: “geoffs an unimaginative minge whos rubbish at thinking up names”

PA: how about “gavin free is an annoying prick who's about to feel the wrath of the banhammer?”

PA: or, here, in less words.

\- pyrotechnicArchitect has changed memo name to GAVIN'S TINY DICK –

VP: really? thats the best you could do

VP: all right this means war

\- visionaryPhantom has changed memo name to SUCK MY NOB –

PA: hey, how'd you do that? i didn't op you.

VP: no ops with this client

VP: not unless you install the package

VP: begone foul creature you have no power here

VP: all of us is as strong as none of us

VP: wait thats not how it goes

\- pyrotechnicArchitect has kicked visionaryPhantom from the memo! –

redRoses has changed memo name to THE RAINBOWS AND SUNSHINE FACTORY – 

visionaryPhantom has joined the memo! – 

VP: what the hell? howd

PA: all of us are ops, dumbass!

VP: oh

VP: right

PR: Nice name change, Ray.

RR: i do my best. 

PA: all right, i was hoping to get through this without having to kick anyone at least once, but it looks like that's not gonna happen.

PA: ray, get your weird ghosty alternate self in here. he's the only one who knows jack shit about this game and i'm tired of trying to ferry messages between people.

RR: kay hang on.

RR: he's being a bit of a pain in the ass right now just to let you all know.

\- Raysprite [RAYSPRITE] has joined the memo THE RAINBOWS AND SUNSHINE FACTORY –

RAYSPRITE: sup bitches

PA: all right, asshole. spill. tell us everything you know about this game.

RAYSPRITE: ask nicely

PA: tell us everything you know about this game or i'll get ray to tier-two prototype you with a copy of fifty shades of gray.

RAYSPRITE: oh fuck no

RAYSPRITE: fine okay jesus. what do you wanna know exactly theres a lot of stuff in this game

VP: how about you start with why michael hasnt woken up yet

VP: hes all twitchy and stuff but hes been out for nearly three hours now

RAYSPRITE: hes probably just busy exploring derse or prospit

RAYSPRITE: wait do you know about those yet cause i told ray but idk if he told you

RR: uh. 

RR: i might not have gotten to that part yet.

RAYSPRITE: all of you have dreamselves that live on one of the two moons of skaia which is the main planet here

RAYSPRITE: either derse or prospit

RAYSPRITE: and you can possess them and walk around and stuff in your dream when you fall asleep in the incipisphere ie here

CT: How do we know whether we're on Derse or Prospit?

RAYSPRITE: fall asleep and find out

PR: Okay, that sounds pretty cool and all, but what's the point? I'm not planning on sleeping anytime soon.

RAYSPRITE: well its there for a couple things

RAYSPRITE: first off its like an extra life 

RAYSPRITE: so if you die you can be revived if someone kisses you

VP: …

PA: uhhhhh.

RR: looks like we're gonna be getting to know each other reeeal well in the next couple days.

RR: although we're already pretty gay anyway.

RR: feel the love, guys.

RR: feel it!

VP: i feel it x-ray!

PR: Okay, that's a little weird. What are some of the other reasons?

RAYSPRITE: you use it to ascend to god tier when you die on your quest bed

PA: when we WHAT?

RAYSPRITE: oh get over it, i already went over this with ray. 

RAYSPRITE: once you reach max level after killing a bunch of monsters, you can ascend to god tier, the highest level, and you get a shit ton of awesome powers depending on your class and aspect

RAYSPRITE: and YES you die but you come back to life through your dreamself which is the point i was trying to make if youd let me finish

CT: Guess that explains the whole quest bed thing, Geoff.

RAYSPRITE: anyway derse and prospit are at war

RAYSPRITE: prospits ruled by a force of good, the white queen and king, and derse is ruled by the black queen and king

RAYSPRITE: but its a war that derse is always destined to win and its fought on the fields of skaia which is the main planet like i told you

VP: good lord

VP: i thought dark souls was hard but this is a whole new level

RAYSPRITE: but thats why its really bad that you guys only prototyped me and not any other kernelsprites because thats how you win

RAYSPRITE: to be honest i dont really understand whats going to happen in your game, ive heard of sessions that dont prototype any kernelsprites but ive never heard of a session with only one

VP: ok im still confused as hell

VP: do we have to go rescue michael from his dreamself or something now

RAYSPRITE: nah hell probably come out on his own

RAYSPRITE: its probably best to just keep exploring your lands and killing monsters for now i guess so that you can ascend faster

PA: man, i dunno, i kinda wanna check out that whole dream planet thing. sounds pretty cool. 

PA: i'm pretty beat, if i can find a safe space i'll go check it out. maybe i'll find michael while i'm there.

VP: yeah me too

RR: #AHdersemeetup2014 be there or be square

CT: Nah, man, I'm a Prospit dreamer.

PR: Wait, how do you know?

PA: oh yeah, i forgot to mention that.

PA: jack's been getting creepy visions about this game.

CT: They're *not* visions. Just, I dunno, feelings.

VP: wait seriously

VP: hey jack what am i thinking right n

CT: If any of you ask me to read your mind, I'll throw you in a lava pit.

VP: er 

VP: ignore that then

VP: at least tell me what dreamself ive got

CT: Uhhh. 

CT: Probably Derse, I think.

RR: oooh, oooh

RR: do me!

PA: you heard the man, jack.

PA: do him.

RR: yeah, do me real good.

RR: nah but seriously, am i prospit or derse?

CT: Prospit. 

PR: And you just know this instinctively? Dude, that's kinda spooky. 

CT: And before anyone else asks-- Geoff, you're Derse and Ryan's Prospit.

PR: Wooo, Team Same Voice!

PR: Also wooo, we're the good guys.

PA: seriously, is no one else concerned about where he's getting this information?

RAYSPRITE: hes probably just a seer

RAYSPRITE: seers tend to have an instinctive understanding of sburb and the world around them

VP: he did pick up minecraft pretty quick

PR: And then spent the entire game building houses.

RR: hey, the man knows what he's good at. and he and i were the first ones to get to our own planets and i probably wouldn't have made it in time if he hadn't managed to build all that stuff so fast

CT: You guys know I could be completely wrong about all this stuff, right?

PA: well, guess we'll find out.

PA: i'm gonna go see if the frogs found a place for me to sleep yet.

PA: i'll ping you guys when i'm back. or if my iphone works in a dream. is there an app for that?

RR: probably. i'm gonna go kick the shit out of more imps. and if michael's the last to ascend because he knocked himself out in the first fifteen minutes, i'm gonna laugh so hard

VP: grrrr i wanna ascend already

VP: i wanna get superpowerrrrrrs

PA: all right, assholes, get the fuck outta here.

\- pyrotechnicArchitect has kicked visionaryPhantom from the memo! –

– pyrotechnicArchitect has kicked causticTranquility from the memo! – 

– pyrotechnicArchitect has kicked paternalRogue from the memo! – 

– pyrotechnicArchitect has kicked redRoses from the memo! – 

\- RAYSPRITE has left the memo! – 

\- pyrotechnicArchitect has left the memo! – 

Well, that cleared a hell of a lot of things up. Gavin's a fair bit less worried about Michael, now that he knows the latter's having a grand old time up on a moon somewhere in his very own tower. He kind of wishes he didn't feel quite so wired, or he'd definitely go check it out with Geoff. 

The ducks are quacking again. He looks up frantically, scanning the hills, but for once there's no enemies in sight. The adrenaline's starting to fade now, and that amped-up feeling is being slowly replaced by a weariness that sinks into his bones. This land isn't particularly conducive to naps, though, it's all metal and shiny flat surfaces, no caves or anything. He's never been particularly good at falling asleep on cue, unlike some people; he smiles, remembering Gus on the podcast, telling the story of finding Burnie asleep in various closets with half-eaten sandwiches in front of the door.

Something taps the back of his knee and he jumps even higher than before. It's one of the ducks, a fat white one. He-- she? – gives Gavin a soft quack and begins trotting away. When it notices he's not following, it turns around and quacks again, harder: _come on._

“Er-- do you want me to follow you?”

Two quacks: _What do you think, dumbass?_. 

He shrugs and follows. It's a duck, it can't be that dangerous. The worst it can do is shit on him. Hopefully.

Eventually it takes him down a little side path, with bronze-colored grass and strange intricate statues lining the road. A stream of liquid silver that looks more like mercury or gallium runs alongside it, trickling over gemlike boulders, and comes to a stop in front of an alcove. The wall is lined with moss, also bronze-colored but considerably softer-looking than the grass outside, and there's an outcropping of sand just long enough for him to stretch out on. The little duck looks up at him, as if hoping he's pleased with its setup.

“Um. Yeah. Great job, ducky! That's...actually pretty impressive, that you knew I was looking for a place to sleep. Oh God, you can't really read minds, can you? That's all I need right now-- Jack's bad enough, now I've gone and started chatting with a telepathic duck...”

He trails off. It's not paying the slightest bit of attention, opting to peck at his shoelaces instead.

“Hey, knock it off! They're already frayed, I don't need your help with that. All right, let's see if I can find someplace in here that's not too uncomfortable...

A few minutes later, Gavin's safely tucked away in a corner that's remarkably dry given its location in the middle of a grotto. He's just starting to drift off when something soft and warm wiggles its way under his arms. His eyes fly open and he catches himself just before he leaps up in astonishment for the third time that day-- the ceiling's only about four meters high and covered in stalactites. 

“What the hell-- oh.”

The duck has nestled itself onto its lap, feathers fluffed in contentment, its eyes half-lidded. It looks as if it belongs there, and he can't bring himself to push it away. Not that it would let him, anyway: the moment he tries to adjust his arms, which are rapidly falling asleep, it honks angrily at him and pecks his fingers.

“Bloody hell, you're more like a cat than a duck, you know that?” He sighs. “Argh. Right, if I've gone and adopted a new pet, then you're gonna need a name. And don't go thinking you can replace Lloyd. Or Joe the Cat!” 

He ponders for a moment.

“Geoff will kill me if I call you Griffon. Or Quackers. Although Barb would probably go for that last one...hmmm. George, Harry, William, Charles, Trevor, Steve...” None of them seem quite right, and he can't think of any more video game characters or members of the Royal Family.

And then he's got it. “How about Austin?”

The duck blinks at him sleepily, and he takes that for a yes. “Okay, Austin, it's you and me against the world tonight. I might be out for a bit, though, so you're on your own for breakfast tomorrow. Don't murder me in my sleep or anything.”

He falls asleep to the sound of silver rain outside and a comforting warmth from the presence of Austin in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for a beta reader! Let me know if you see any glaring inconsistencies with Sburb-- the Homestuck universe is so complicated, it's impossible to keep everything straight.
> 
> And thank you to everyone who has commented; your words keep me warm at night :3


	5. Geoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't save everyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for this chapter: blood, gore, and basically anything else that goes along with graphic violence.
> 
> Yeah, this is not a fun chapter. Sorry guys.

Geoff generally considers himself to be a fairly calm person. Serving in the Army, marrying a woman tougher than most of his drill sergeants, and raising a spitfire daughter have all made him into a guy who's pretty difficult to rattle. Watching the meteors raining down was fairly traumatizing, yes, but even that didn't get to him as much as it probably should have. He isn't even capable of holding a grudge for longer than a week or two. Most things just roll right off him.

But nothing could have prepared him for what he found when he woke up on Derse.

Initially, it starts off pretty well. It's just like waking up in his room back in Texas, although he misses the comforting weight of Griffon lying next to him. A couple of old pairs of jeans are lying on the floor, and a few charcoal sketches of his wife's latest sculpture designs were scattered on the bureau. Even the alarm clock is blinking red, although it isn't plugged in (and the time reads 41:30). The only other strange thing is that everything seems to be a startling shade of purple, including his clothes, which had shifted from a black T-shirt and jeans to soft silk pajamas that are remarkably comfortable, considering how fancy they are. 

Also, he can fly, which is pretty neat.

He pokes his head out the window as best he can-- it's a very strangely shaped window, the only one in the room, and he definitely does _not_ remember getting it installed in his Texas house-- and spends the next few minutes absorbing the view. The sky creeps him out a little. It's utterly starless, a blank void that makes him feel a little as though he were falling. He shivers, and turns his attention to the streets and skyline directly in front of him. Two more towers are illuminated in the distance; if Jack's right, Michael and Gavin are asleep in each. 

He should probably check on Michael at some point, considering he's the reason Geoff went to explore Derse in the first place, but he can't resist the urge to mess around a little first. But the whole levitation thing proves much more difficult to master than he'd anticipated. Willing himself to move up or down doesn't seem to accomplish anything, and there aren't any muscles to flex to change direction. He spends a few more minutes floating around, trying futilely to master the art of anti-gravity, before giving up. Hopefully there's something more interesting going outside, because hanging out in his room is getting boring. 

Oh, that's odd-- there are noises in the distance. Muffled words and the occasional thuds are coming from outside the doors. Huh. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him that there would be anybody on Derse, aside from him and Team Nice Dynamite. Does that make them aliens? Oh shit, wait, are the frogs on his planet technically aliens? Or is _he_ the alien? 

All right, this is getting a little too deep for a dream. Labels are bullshit, anyway, right? He exits his room and floats gently down the stairs towards a set of large double doors.

“Why can't weeee be friends, why can't weeee be friends,” he sings softly to himself, off-key. Man, flying is the coolest ever. It's like being in real-life Minecraft creative mode, only without the nifty benefit of unlimited resources. Seriously, why had Apple or Google never gotten around to inventing some kind of portable anti-gravity device yet? They could call it Google Gravity. Or the iGrav. No, fuck it, that sounds dumb as hell. The iPhone 4Grav? Nah...

He's still thinking up ridiculous names and imagining how much easier it would be to fly to work every day when he opens the double doors, and so it takes him a few moments to process exactly what it is that he's seeing. 

There's a long wide corridor stretching in front of him, with massive columns and violet tapestries lining the walls. The roof of it towers above, the stained glass along its edges casting colorful shadows on the floor in front of him. But the elegance of it all hardly registers in his mind beyond a superficial level-- he's too busy staring at the carnage in front of him.

It's a scene of utter slaughter. The tapestries have been slashed and shredded. The velvet red carpet is a wreck, mangled beyond recognition. The beautiful mosaic floors are spattered with blood, wet and fresh, still leaking from the mutilated bodies that have been strewn about the corridor. Strange, shiny, black bodies, clearly inhuman.

His first thought is, _Oh my God, I was right. They_ are _aliens_.

And then, _Their blood looks just like ours._

All his instincts are screaming at him to stop staring, to do something, anything to try to save at least a few of them, but he doesn't even know where to begin. What if their bodies were functionally different than a human's? Maybe their heart is in their pinky or something. Maybe they don't have any bones. What if he makes it worse by trying to help? 

And then he realizes it's an irrelevant question, because most of them have been decapitated, and he's fairly sure it's universally impossible to save someone's life after their heads have-- _Jesus Christ_ \-- rolled to a spot some ten feet away from their body, next to a black-and-white checked flag.

_Anyone for Grifball?_ some distant part of his mind thinks, and he has to stifle the urge to start laughing. He's right on the edge of almost-hysteria, which is a state he absolutely cannot afford to be in right now, and he does his best to wrestle himself back from the edge. _Get it together, Ramsey, they're not even human, calm the fuck down--_

Something's moving next to him. It's one of the bodies, one that he thought was dead, but now it's reaching up a slender arm that's encased in some sort of exoskeleton. He crouches, reaches out so it can take his hand. It doesn't even occur to him to be scared of it; it's an alien, yes, but it's dying in unimaginable pain and probably terrified out of its mind. There's little comfort he can offer at this point, but the creature squeezes his hand, and it seems to help. Small mercies.

“Please-- go--”

It's whispering something, so faint he can barely hear it.

“Sir-- they're after you, please, run--”

“Who?” He keeps his voice to the lightest whisper, scared that the creature will break if he speaks too loudly. “Who's after me? Who did this to you?”

“No time...” It coughs and more blood oozes out of its chest. “She got the others first--”

“I know-- I'm so sorry, I didn't get here in time, I don't even know what's going on...”

“Not them...your friends, the Knight and the Mage, the other dreamers...”

Geoff's heart seizes in his chest. “Gavin? Gavin and Michael? Are-- are they—” He can't even bring himself to say it. There's ice spreading into the pit of his stomach. _Please, God, not them..._

Its voice is fading fast. “Delayed her...for a bit. Time enough...for you to escape...but she'll be back.”

The ice in his stomach begins to boil over, and turns into a red-hot fire. Geoff doesn't know who _she_ is, but he doesn't care. It's been a long, long time since he's been this angry, and it almost feels good. He nurses the rage, stokes it, keeps it simmering for later use. These poor bastards fought to protect him and his friends, only to be left to die alone, surrounded by their fallen fellows in an empty hallway. When he speaks, his voice is shaking. “Who is she? I swear, I'll find her and kill her for doing this-- come on, stay with me, I'll get you out of here--”

“No hope for me, sir. I'm just...a soldier. Leave me...find the Heroes. Need them...to kill her.”

The fire is still roaring inside, so loud that he almost doesn't hear what the creature's just said. “Wait. They're still alive?”

But it doesn't speak again. Instead its hand relaxes its grip and falls to the floor. The light in its eyes has gone out. 

Geoff stands up slowly. Too many thoughts are racing through his head for him to make any sense of them. He's running on autopilot now, trusting his body to do the right thing while his mind works overtime. He does his best to arrange the creature-- whose name, he now realizes, he never learned-- in a decent position, wishing he could do the same for the rest. It will have to do for now. Next up is Michael and Gavin. The alien made it sound like they were still alive, but whatever killed the soldiers in here is probably still in the hallways nearby. He'll have to get out through the window of his room and fly across to the other towers.

Carefully, he makes his way back through the bloody hallway and through the double doors. A few steps back up and he's at the entrance to his room. Once he's in, he pushes his dresser over to block the door, wincing at the screeching sound it makes as it scrapes across the floor. So far, so good; he hasn't heard any voices nearby. Nobody seems to be coming after him yet, and if they do, this makeshift blockade should slow them down considerably. But his luck runs out once he gets to the window. It's locked tight, and after a few pathetic attempts at wrenching it open, he discovers that for some bizarre reason, the lock is on the outside of the window. There's no way out-- he's stuck--

\--and then he remembers his workdesk, and the monstrosity that's sitting on it. He glances over, and sure enough, there's the superpowered trashcan that Burnie made him upgrade to after New Years', the hideous new Mac Pro. Even though he's about ninety percent certain it wouldn't be functional in a dream, he still cringes at the thought of what he's about to do with this ridiculously expensive, state-of-the-art piece of technology. But there's no way around it. 

As it sails through the window, it makes a satisfying “crash”, and shatters on the streets below. Now there's a nice big hole where the window used to be, but there's still a considerable amount of glass shards poking out at dangerous angles. He uses the keyboard to smash the rest of the glass out of the way before gingerly hauling himself up and onto the window ledge.

Oh, Christ, that's a hell of a drop.

One of the early scenes in the Matrix flashes through his mind, the bit where Morpheus is trying to convince Neo that Neo can make the jump across the roof if he just believes in himself and the Matrix. Geoff really, really hopes that Derse doesn't rely nearly as heavily on the power of belief, because _he's_ definitely not convinced he can make that jump. His brain's yelling at him to turn around and take his chances with the crazy bitch inside, that if he takes another step he'll be nothing more than a Geoff-shaped pancake on the ground below. He does his best to tune it out. Gavin and Michael need him. He can do this, if he doesn't look down...

He steps forward, bracing himself for the plunge.

Nothing.

Another step, and then another. He opens his eyes: he's suspended in midair, a few feet from his tower, no higher or lower than where he started. _Success_. He floats forward, willing himself to move faster, but his in-flight cruise control seems to be stuck at the “aimless wandering” setting.

Ever so slowly, the other tower approaches, and now he can hear the noises that are coming from inside. They don't sound happy. Fear begins to wind its way into his heart, constricting, but he pushes it away. He won't be of any use if he freezes up like last time. This time, he's going to find the motherfuckers responsible and beat the living shit out of them. The rage bubbles up into his throat again, searing through his body, replacing the fear. _Better_. 

Finally, he's hovering in front of the other tower's window, and yep, those are some not very nice noises coming from within. Using the wall, he pushes himself down until he's just below the window ledge, and peers up through the glass.

It's Gavin's room, the one in his new house. He hasn't had time to get it thoroughly trashed yet, and there are still a few empty moving boxes lying around. A couple of posters are up on the wall: the Achievement Hunter boy band one, as well as a Red vs. Blue promo picture and a few pieces of fanart. The Tower of Pimps figurine is sitting on the inside windowsill, glittering in the city lights. Everything looks relatively normal...

...except for the two shadowy figures advancing towards the bed in the corner of the room. With a start, Geoff sees Gavin lying under the covers, clad in purple pajamas and out like a light. Something reflects off a glint of metal in the hands of one of the figures, the tall skinny one, and oh fuck that's definitely a knife. Time to move. Geoff reaches for the window, but even though it's locked from the outside-- just like his own-- he can't get it to move. With all his strength, he pulls at the lock as hard as he can, grunting in frustration, but it doesn't budge even a tad. Fuck. This time there's no thousand-dollar piece of technology to bust it open. He looks around frantically for something, anything, but there's nothing but smooth purple brick surrounding him. 

He glances through the window again, and his stomach drops as though he's finally succumbed to gravity. The figures are standing over Gavin, and the tall one's raising the knife-- 

Geoff doesn't even think about it. With a roar, he slams his fist into the glass with all the force of his rage and fear behind it. It shatters and goes tinkling twenty stories to the ground, and the adrenaline spiking through his system makes it seem like it's moving slowly through Jell-O. Something in his hindbrain whispers _tunnel vision_ as the world begins to narrow and everything turns black around the edges. He shoves the few leftover large pieces out of the way, hardly noticing the warmth trickling over his fingers and down his wrist. His fury is blazing so hot that it drowns out the pain, and he feels almost nothing as he forces his way through the window, slipping a little on his own blood. 

He lands awkwardly on the glass-covered floor, legs shaking, just in time for the shorter agent to deck him in the forehead with the butt of a spear.

The world spins and goes dark around the edges. Geoff's knees buckle and he hits the ground painfully, slamming his bleeding hands against shards of glass. Everything threatens to fade to gray, but the phrase Gavin's in danger flashes across his brain like a neon sign and he forces himself to stay awake. Head throbbing, left hand numb from the elbow up, Geoff pushes himself upright. His stomach debates for a few seconds whether or not to rebel, and eventually decides to stay put for the moment. 

As soon as his vision stops tilting, just as Spear Guy is drawing back his weapon for a second blow, Geoff launches himself across the room at Knife Guy. They hit the floor in a tangle of flailing limbs, and Geoff pummels every bit of shiny black armor he can reach, ignoring the knife and heedless of the way the agent's strange exoskeleton seems to be absorbing his blows. Geoff's not a small guy, especially compared to the spindly body of Knife, but the latter is lightning-quick and slippery as an eel. In no time he's got Geoff pinned to the ground, ignoring his furious struggles. All Geoff can do is watch as Spear brings his weapon up once more.

Something crunches in his face. This time the blow really does knock him out for a few seconds. He blinks his eyes open, unable to process anything aside from the roaring in his head, but immediately squeezes them shut as something warm trickles into them. The pain hits a split second later, a bolt of agony driving its way into his brain. He retches weakly, feels blood drip down his face and into his mouth, and spits in disgust. The center of his face is one giant mass of pain, and he hopes desperately that it's only his nose that's broken and not anything else. Then he realizes that it's more or less completely unnecessary to worry about a few fractured bones, since he's almost certainly not going to make it out of this alive. 

The blood running into his eyes gives everything a faint scarlet hue. He tries to push through the pain, to get up and get to Gavin, but even the slightest movement makes his brain feel like it's being rolled in ground glass. Dimly, he hears Knife and Spear talking in the distance.

“Why the hell didn't you finish him off just now?”

“He's gonna die anyway, just look at him! Humans ain't got that much blood in 'em, and just look at all the blood he's lost. 'Sides, if he gets to watch us kill his little friend here, all the better, I say.”

“But the Queen said--”

“I know what the Queen said. We're not _technically_ disobeying. We're just takin' our time, that's all. Enjoying ourselves. You are, aren'tcha?”

Knife lets out a cackle. “You bet! All right, let's just get this over with, once we get done with these two we'll be all set--”

These two? 

Geoff doesn't want to let himself believe it, can't believe it, but he's unable to stop the little ray of hope that pierces the pain. If they're only worried about him and Gavin, then maybe they haven't gotten to Michael yet. Or maybe they don't even know he exists--

And then Knife smacks his friend upside the head. “Hey, lemme do this one, you got to do the last one--”

“Aw, come on, that one doesn't count. It was hard, the little fucker wouldn't stop running away!”

The little beam of hope is promptly extinguished. Geoff's heart stops in his chest. He replays the words in his head, hoping against hope that he's heard wrong. _Fuck, no, no, God DAMMIT--_ Spear's trying to push his co-worker out of the way, and shifts a little to the left in the process. That's when Geoff sees it. 

Michael's body, covered in blood, is lying in the corner of a room. His neck is bent at an awkward angle and his pajamas have been ripped to shreds. Geoff feels the blood drain from his face, feels his heart restart and begin to race, skipping beats. _This is a nightmare. This whole game's a nightmare, not just Derse, I'm gonna wake up any minute and listen to Gus bitch me out for being late to work..._

From a distance he hears himself make a horrible noise, a hoarse animal sound. He tries again to push himself to his feet, but his arms fail and he collapses, trembling.

“You like that?” says a voice behind him. “He was a tricky lad, that one. So noble. Fought right up till the end, unlike your sleepy friend here...”

And Geoff turns his head, opening his mouth to curse Knife twelve ways from Sunday, only to watch the knife plunge into Gavin's chest. It cuts through bone like a scalpel, effortlessly. Gavin doesn't make a sound, doesn't even move as blood spreads across his shirt and soaks into the bed. All Geoff can do is watch helplessly, sagging in the assassin's grip. 

When they come for him, he doesn't even notice. The knife saws through his throat and he feels no pain. The last thing he sees is Gavin's arm hanging loosely from the side of the bed, dripping blood in a puddle on the floor.


	6. Gavin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin makes another new friend.
> 
> It's not quite as friendly as his last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: blood, mental trauma. Same stuff as last chapter.

Something is not right.

Actually, several somethings are not right. Everything's wrong. Wrong, wrong, so very, very wrong, and he can't stop the unending litany of _bad bad bad_ that's running through his mind to try and fix it. He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know _who_ he is, he doesn't know anything. All he knows is that the world is empty and black and dark and everything is watching him floating in space, a tiny little human all alone and defenseless. He's completely lost, out in the farthest reaches of the void beyond any universe, the only matter present for trillions and trillions of light-years, and he can feel his mind twisting, imploding, unable to process the sheer _nothingness_ that surrounds him--

<h e l l o>

The voice echoes through his brain. He's the only thing present that sound waves can bounce off of, and bounce they do, reverbrating through his body down to his bones. 

<h e l l o>

It's the abyssal depths of the ocean floor, the endless pull of a black hole, and it shakes him to his foundations. He focuses on it, wrenches his mind away from the downward spiral of terror that it's threatening to enter. The voice is an anchor that proves he's not alone in the universe.

< n i c e t o m e e t y o u>

He remembers, suddenly, that he has a mouth, and before he can stop himself, he responds instinctively to the courtesy. “Likewise.” 

He flinches; in the silence at the end of the universe, his voice sounds like he's bellowing the words. 

<n a m e>

“I...” He knows his name, yes, he can do that much at least. Funny, how he almost couldn't remember. “Gavin. Gavin Free.”

<n i c e t o m e e t y o u g a v i n f r e e>

Slowly but surely, he's starting to become aware of his body, and that it does, in fact, exist. The pressure of the void had made it hard to remember what it was like to be human-- to be matter, and not simply _nothing_. His limbs feel like they're asleep, and he shakes them to try to bring the feeling back. He's not sure if he should respond to whatever it is that's speaking to him, but anything's better than going back to that oblivion. “Nice to meet you, too...er...what was your name?”

<n a m e ?>

<o u r n a m e . . .>

A stream of horribly mangled sounds pour into Gavin's ears. He gasps involuntarily, clutching at his ears, while at the same time, gruesome images flash through his mind--

( _blood shadow dripping dark writhing eyes whispering horrors blackness blackness_ )

They crawl through his mind like rotting insects. The images they show are too hideous and ancient for him to comprehend. All they do is make his brain turn inwards on itself, unable to process what it's taking in, and he can't stop himself from screaming. Instantly, the pictures stop.

<a p o l o g i e s>

<f o r g o t y o u a r e h u m a n . w e a r e t o o o l d f o r s u c h y o u n g o n e s>

<a r e y o u w e l l ?>

Gavin's head is aching, but he manages a sickly smile. “ 'Sall good. No harm done. At least, I don't think so, yet.” He rubs his temples. “How about I just call you, erm, Fred for now?”

<f r e d i s a c c e p t a b l e>

“Right then.” 

He pauses. 

“Bloody hell, it's dark out here. Dark, and frankly a little bit terrifying...”

<a p o l o g i e s>

“Oh, no-- I was just talking to myself, it's fine, I didn't mean--”

A faint light blooms around him from no discernible source. Apparently the bodiless voice had heard him and wanted to help. And it does help, surprisingly: he can see himself now, which is more reassuring than he'd expected it to be. It's still rather nervewracking, being alone in space, but it's not nearly as bad with a little bit of light to see by. 

...Now what? Flying is cool and all, but hanging out in space with nothing to do but talk to some weird alien is getting a little boring. He should probably ask it about the meaning of life, or something. That's what you're supposed to do when you come into contact with a godlike creature, right? He tries to rest his head on his hand, or cross one leg over the other, to make him feel at least a little bit like he's able to sit down and think, but he's got no leverage in the void of outer space. Eventually he gives up and folds his arms across his chest.

“So, uh. Fred. Have you got the answer, then?”

<a n s w e r>

“You know. To life, the universe. Everything. You're supposed to ask that when you meet omnipotent beings, right?” He gestures vaguely with one hand. “Where am I, anyway? How am I even breathing? Even I know you've got to have oxygen and stuff in space. Or is this some weird mechanic that's built into the game?”

<s p a c e>

<t h i s i s n o t s p a c e>

< y o u a r e d r e a m i n g. t h i s i s t h e f u r t h e s t r i n g>

“Sorry, the furthest _ring_? The furthest from what?”

<t h e f u r t h e s t>

He gives up. For a creepy, seemingly-omniscient alien, it's sure got a limited vocabulary. A shame, that. He'd always thought first contact would be a little more Hollywood-esque. Then a thought occurs to him. “Wait, hang on. If I'm dreaming, how come I'm not on Derse?”

<y o u a r e d e a d>

_“What??”_ The hell does that mean? He must have misheard, despite the fact that the voice takes up all the space in his head whenever it speaks. “No, I'm bloody well not! Look--” --he pokes himself in the arm-- “I've got a corporeal body and everything! I--”

<y o u a r e d e a d>

“The hell I am! How can I be dreaming if I'm dead?”

<y o u r d r e a m s e l f w a s s l a i n>

<n o w y o u a r e h e r e w i t h u s u n t i l y o u a w a k e>

<h e r e w i t h u s t a l k t o u s>

Okay, this is getting seriously scary. Fred sure seems nice, but there's no way of knowing what his-- her? its? – intentions really are, and it doesn't seem to have any knowledge of its own strength. What's more, it sounds awfully happy about having Gavin as a new companion, however temporarily. “All right...when do I wake up, then?”

<d o n o t l e a v e>

<s t a y w i t h u s>

“Yeah, no thanks, I'd like to wake up right about now, please--”

<p l e a s e>

“Nope, sorry, Fred, I've got things to do and places to be, you know how it is-- so little things to do, so much time-- love to stay and chat but duty calls--”

<v e r y w e l l>

<b e f o r e y o u l e a ve u s>

<w e h a v e s o m e t h i n g t o s h o w y o u g a v i n f r e e>

Well, that doesn't sound ominous, at all. But maybe he's overreacting. Maybe the thing with the unpronounceable name that translates into horrific images just wants to give him a puppy or something. And he's always had a bit of a soft spot for the evil monsters in movies-- nobody ever gives them a chance. Who's to say this particular monster, if it is a monster, isn't just trying to help? It must be awfully lonely out here in the middle of nowhere.

What the hell. Never let it be said that Gavin Free judges books by their covers. 

“All right, what have you got?”

<l o o k>

He looks around, but all he can see is darkness and the weird glow coming off his skin. “I don't see any--”

<l o o k h a r d e r>

<l o o k>

“All right, all right, no need to get stroppy about it.” He squints, staring as hard as he can into the void, but it's difficult to see anything without a solid object to focus on. But he does his best, and after a few moments it's easier. It's not really a matter of staring at anything, but letting his eyes slide sort of off-center and letting the darkness fill his vision. It feels almost solid, or at least amorphous, wrapping around Gavin like a warm blanket. He gazes into it...

...and the darkness begins to unravel.

<d o y o u s e e>

It's melting away, shifting into a scene that he doesn't recognize. He's standing in the corner of a room, _his_ room, but it's all purple and somehow off-looking. For one thing, there's a giant window that certainly didn't come with his house, now broken and covered in splotches of red. For another, there's two figures standing next to his bed that he doesn't recognize. One's tall, one's short, but they're both undeniably threatening. 

He _does,_ however, recognize the figure standing in front of the broken window. It's Geoff, clutching his mangled right hand, which is oozing blood from dozens of gashes. And Gavin's only seen that look on his face a few times before before, most recently when a man was harassing Griffon at a bar, and he remembers thinking it's a look that he never, ever wants to be on the receiving end of-- it usually ends with either several bruises and/or broken bones for the recipient or an unconscious Geoff, whichever comes first. Gavin wants desperately to go to his friend, to fix his hand and ask him just what the hell is going on, but he can't move. He's rooted to his spot by an unseen force. All he can do is--

<w a t c h>

He's so absorbed in the scene in front of him that he barely hears the voice anymore. It all happens in the span of a few seconds: Geoff staggers towards the figures, clearly determined to kick some ass in spite of his injury, but without warning, the shorter figure whirls around and hits him with the butt of a-- a _spear_? Gavin yelps in surprise, struggles to move, but the invisible force field shows no signs of letting up, and nobody else in the room appears to be able to hear him. Geoff crashes to the ground as the figure turns back to the bed, and with a shock, Gavin sees someone lying on the bed, but he's unable to tell who it is.

_What the hell?_

Geoff, tough bastard that he is, doesn't stay down for long. He's pushing himself up and crawling towards the bed to stop whatever it is they're about to do to the person lying there. Despite what's almost certainly a concussion, he full-on tackles the other assassin, only to be immediately pinned to the ground. This time, when the stranger hits him again, he stays down, blood pouring from his face. Gavin sees red, and shrieks Geoff's name in anger and helplessness, _let me out, let me stop them, I need to save him!_

And then he sees it.

Michael's body is in the corner of the room, silhouetted by a ghastly light. He's been tossed in a mangled heap like a ragdoll. His head's slumped over onto his chest, his glasses missing, his curly hair matted to his temples with dried blood. The strange purple clothes he's wearing are slashed and covered in big splotches of crimson. His big brown eyes are open and glassy. They catch the light, staring at Gavin, unseeing. 

Gavin screams, raw and choking. The sight of Michael sears itself into his head. He can't think, can't process, can't see anything other than his best friend's body-- _he can't be dead, he's my boy, not Michael, I'll do anything--_

He's still screaming when the glint of metal catches his eye. He jerks his head away from the scene, just in time to see the tall figure bring the knife up to Geoff's throat. 

_“NO!”_

Geoff slumps to the ground, blood soaking into the carpet around him. 

When the room fades away, to be replaced by the familiar empty space around him, Gavin's nearly hysterical, coughing out sobs and hiccupping. There's many voices now, surrounding him, all speaking at once, but he's too much of a mess to understand any of them. Michael's dead. Geoff's dead. Whoever it was on the bed-- Ray, Ryan, or Jack-- is almost certainly about to die. There's no hope for any of them, and it's all Gavin's fault for introducing them to this game. 

<y o u c a n f i x i t>

_No I can't, they're dead, I saw Geoff choke on his own blood, and it's all because of me--_

<w e h a v e t h e p o w e r. w e c a n g i v e i t t o y o u>

<w e c a n h e l p y o u>

_How can you help me? You can't bring them back! Those bastards murdered them!_

<y o u s e e k r e v e n g e>

<w e c a n h e l p y o u>

<k i l l t h e m>

<k i l l t h e o n e s w h o k i l l e d y o u r f r i e n d s>

_Kill them?_

The thought hadn't even occurred to him-- he only wanted to bring his friends back-- but once the idea is planted, it takes root and flourishes. He doesn't know who _they_ are, or how they found Geoff and Michael. And he doesn't care. He's scared and grief-stricken and angry, so very, very angry that he can hardly think straight. They killed his friends. They need to die. He's going to--

<k i l l t h e m>

A gray haze is forming around the edge of his vision. He sees blood, tastes it, feels the fury and hatred coursing through his veins. The need to kill, to rip and tear and snuff out the lives of the ones who killed Geoff and Michael, is overwhelming. But he can't. Not yet. He's too weak, too soft. To do the job properly, he needs to get stronger first.

The darkness swirls around him, tinged with streaks of violet, a physical thing that he can almost touch. It hovers just out of range, watching, waiting. He hears whispers and mutterings coming from within; it's promising help, strength, and unlimited power. They can make him stronger. They'll help him seek revenge. He can't quite make out what exactly it is that they're saying, but somehow they're very persuasive. Surely it means well. It's helped him once already-- it gave him light when he was alone and terrified. He can trust it. _Them._

And he's so angry...

<y e s>

<l i s t e n>

Wait a moment. Why are they helping him? Why do they want him to get revenge so badly? It's highly unlikely that they're going to gain anything by it. In fact, why did they show him that vision in the first place when it was clear that Gavin couldn't do anything to stop it? Nothing makes sense. He doesn't know who to trust. He's scared and confused, his head is aching, blood's pounding in his ears, help, please, what's going _on_ \--

<w e h a v e p o w e r l e t u s i n>

<l e t u s i n>

It's pressing at the edges of his mind, now, looking for cracks and chinks by which to enter, and he doesn't know if he should fight them off or let them in. The voices are too loud. His thoughts are a tangled mess that he can't hear over the sound of the whispering darkness. He needs to fight, to chase the killers down. He'll make them pay for what they did to his friends.

No. _No_. He's not a killer, he needs to find Jack and Ray and Ryan and ask them for help-- he needs-- he needs-- 

<l e t u s i n>

Geoff is collapsing to the ground in front of him, the front of his shirt soaked red. 

Michael's dead eyes stare at him from a bruised and broken body.

Gavin tastes blood--

<l e t u s i n>

< _l e t u s i n_ >

He shrieks, one last time, and gives up. The grimdarkness rushes in.


	7. Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray explores his planet.

Ray's pretty sure it says something about him that the kernelsprite he made of himself turned out to be a total jackass. Actually, it probably says something about him that he prototyped himself in the first place. He really, really hopes that _this_ isn't how he comes across to other people. Thankfully, it seems that most kernelsprites come pre-equipped with a little gizmo that their creator can trap them in if they want to keep their sprites safe-- or, in Ray's case, get them to shut up for longer than thirty seconds. As a result, Raysprite is now sulking in a tiny plastic charm of a Minecraft cake hanging around his neck, a gift from a fan a few months ago.

There really isn't much to do on his planet right now. Ray's more than okay with this, considering the struggles everyone else has been having on their own lands, although he does feel a little guilty. But maybe it makes sense that his planet is the calmest. Aside from maybe Geoff, Ray's probably the most chill of all the Achievement Hunters. During the Let's Plays, instead of running around screaming like Gavin, or giving up in ten minutes like Jack, Ray bides his time, silently collecting everything he needs to win. Then he sneaks up out of nowhere to win the game. His strengths lie in watching from the shadows and using other people to his advantage.

When he actually expends effort, that is. Half the time he just fucks around doing nothing and ends up losing terrifically. But when he _does_ try, he almost always kicks ass.

So it doesn't come as a huge surprise when the snakes, via Raysprite, tell him that he's the one responsible for keeping the team together and preventing them all from getting killed. It's not that he's supposed to lead them, exactly. Their little group doesn't really have a leader, unless you count Geoff and Jack as the co-founders. He just needs to keep an eye on all of them, make sure they don't lose their minds, and stop them from falling apart. It's a tall order, but Ray's always had a knack for understanding how people interact with each other, especially his close friends. 

He hasn't told this to any of them yet, though. Why would he? Michael would just laugh and call him a pussy, and Gavin would go along with whatever Michael said. And even though Geoff probably wouldn't give two shits, Ray doesn't want him thinking that he's gunning for for his or Jack's roles as the unofficial heads of their merry gang of nerds. So he keeps it to himself, and does his best to watch from the distance and only jump in when he's needed.

Even his imps aren't that bad. They're ugly as sin, all covered in black thorns, but it still feels weird to kill them when they don't seem to know any better. Again, he knows the others would probably laugh at him for feeling bad about killing a bunch of code, especially considering how Ray's got the highest gamerscore out of all of them and has no such qualms about mowing down fields of zombies in Left 4 Dead. Michael's probably having a blast right now-- assuming he's finally woken up-- slaughtering monsters left and right. When it comes to mook-slaying, Ray prefers to be silent but deadly. It's much more fun that way.

It's funny, he reflects, how different each of the Lads are not only in terms of gameplay, but personality as well, especially considering how the Gents share a relatively similar style. Where Michael's all bluster and fire and rage, Ray's quiet and clever, but straightforward and blunt when the need calls for it. And Gavin's a mixture of the two, full of Michael's energy and excitement, but infinitely more innocent, no matter how fierce he tries to be. He's got his own version of Ray's cunning, too, despite the fact that his clumsiness tends to fuck up any strategies he tries to implement. 

A few imps burst out of the bushes. Ray dispatches them easily with a few absent-minded flicks of his rose whip, deep in thought. That's probably why the three of them make such a great team. Each of them brings something critical to the table. He wonders vaguely why they don't all live on the same dream planet, since they work so well together, but maybe that has more to do with their method of gameplay than their personalities. That makes him wonder what Prospit is like. _I should go to sleep soon, just so I'm not the last one up there. It sounds fuckin' sweet._

Sleeping's going to have to wait for a few minutes, though. Ryan's messaging him.

\-- paternalRogue [PR] began pestering redRoses [RR] at 15:30 –-

PR: Hey.

RR: brownman's taxidermy, you snuff em, we stuff em.

PR: I'm here to pick up my custom-designed stuffed squirrel, please.

PR: Do I get a discount if I pre-ordered in advance?

RR: only on orders over fifty bucks.

PR: Fifty bucks? Jeez, what a ripoff.

PR: Screw this, I'm taking my business someplace else.

RR: suit yourself.

RR: what else can i help you with on this fine morning.

PR: Nothing much, just figured I'd check in. Everyone else is either asleep or wandering off somewhere.

PR: I think I figured out what my quest is, by the way.

RR: oh yeah? go on.

PR: Well, I noticed that all the silver trees were making a kind of path that led into the forest. So I followed it. And let me tell you, that forest is pretty damn creepy when all you have is moonlight to see by.

PR: Anyway I walked for like an hour, and I found this weird set of steps that went directly underground. Kinda like a Minecraft cave, complete with a bunch of scary noises in the distance. Except these were more metallic, like a forge, with things clanging and sizzling.

PR: So I poked my head and it turned out that it actually *was* a forge, with imps running around with hammers and tongs and those blowy things-- what do you call them? Billows?

RR: bellows?

PR: Yeah, those. And there were a bunch of giant fire pits everywhere that were melting silver in giant pots. I couldn't tell exactly what they were doing with it, but it probably wasn't good.

PR: Then I heard a horrible rumbling noise. 

PR: I looked up, and this is the worst part: there was a giant fucking dragon coiled in the center of the room. And I'm not talking a little lizard, here. This was like that monster from Lord of the Rings.

PR: And that's when I hightailed it out of there, because I was gonna shit my pants if I stayed there any longer. But yeah. I think that's my quest.

RR: what, kill smaug to save the trees?

PR: Basically, if he's the one turning everything silver.

PR: No clue how, though. Guess I thought I'd run it by you and see if you had any bright ideas.

RR: uh. hmmmmm. 

RR: fuck dude i got no clue, i didn't even know dragons were a thing.

RR: the only thing i can think of is to kill more imps and try to ascend before you try to take that thing on, because you're not gonna make a dent in it right now if it's as huge as you say.

RR: that's basically what i'm doing right now-- looking for my quest bed.

RR: because i'm almost at max level.

PR: Already? Jesus, dude, color me impressed. Sometimes I forget how fucking good you are at video games. 

RR: yesss, bow to your sensei.

PR: Don't let it go to your head or anything.

RR: i would never.

PR: I guess that's as solid a plan as anything. Kill monsters, get superpowers, fight the boss.

RR: *your* boss. raysprite said the black king is the final boss. this is just a miniboss.

PR: Wow. That makes me feel so much better. 

PR: Anyway, let me know when you get to your quest bed, maybe we can ascend together.

RR: r&r connection 4 lyfe.

RR: later man.

\--paternalRogue [PR] ceased pestering redRoses [RR] at 15:42 –-

Ray closes the chat and sticks the phone back into his pocket, catching a glimpse of his necklace charm as he does so. It's glowing angrily with Raysprite's irritation at being locked away. Tough. Last time he was out, he promptly insulted Ray's love of Sailor Moon, which earned him a three-hour time-out. Ray's got no plans to let him free anytime soon.

He coils up his rose whip and attaches it to his belt. _Damn, this thing is sweet. I should look into getting an Indiana Jones hat to go with it_. He's never been a big fan of weapons, and has certainly never felt the need to carry one around with him, but there's something reassuring about the weight of it at his side. It's starting to make more sense now, why so many Texans relish their Second Amendment rights. 

Once his whip is stowed away, he's more or less all packed and ready to go. He doesn't really have much stuff, aside from his phone and headset-- he definitely didn't bring any food or water with him when he came through from Earth, considering he had no idea he'd be stranded on an alien planet for however long it took them to beat the game. It feels like he should be starving by now, but weirdly enough, he doesn't feel particularly hungry. Maybe the game's doing something to his digestive system, slowing down his metabolism so he doesn't need to eat as much. Which is probably a good thing. The Land of Roses and Waterfalls might be peaceful, but it certainly doesn't have much by way of food.

 _Man, if this were a story, I'd be so ticked at the author right now. Hand-waving away basic biological functions...now_ that's _some lazy writing right there..._

His snake, Zelda, stirs as he starts moving. She's coiled around his wrist, absorbing his body heat-- at least, he thinks she's a girl, but he's not about to go check between her nonexistent legs. Her tongue flicks against his skin in annoyance at having her nap disturbed. “Sorry, babe. Gotta get moving before the sun sets.” 

The mid-afternoon light is already beating down hard against his dark hair as Ray sets off across the grassy fields. He doesn't really have a clue where to start looking for his quest bed, but figures that a) his planet can't be _that_ big if he's supposed to find it all on his own, and b) if this place was designed for him, and if his god-tier class and aspect is a representation of his innermost self, he'll probably be able to track it down instinctively. That's how it works in the movies, anyway, and the last twelve hours could probably serve as the plot of James Cameron's next blockbuster. So it should all work out. Hopefully. 

Half an hour later, he's sweating through his Flynt Coal shirt and cursing his own stupidity at wearing black clothing on a planet with more-or-less eternal sunshine. There's still no sign of anything resembling a bed. Everything is green grass for as far as the eye can see, with patches of red rosebushes here and there as well as the occasional waterfall. The sun turns his shadow into a long, stretched-out version of himself, and the sky is beginning to show the faintest hints of pink and gold. He can hear the trickling of another waterfall, maybe a quarter of a mile away, and spends a few moments debating whether or not he has time to take a short dip before he finds a place to sleep for the night. 

_Ah, fuck it. When am I ever gonna get the chance to swim in a waterfall again?_

Conveniently, there's a large collection of roses growing up the side of the falls. The plants have grown around each other, forming a shaded semi-circle and curving over the wall of boulders that line the edge of the water. It's the perfect place to spend the night, and even provides some decent shelter from any imps that might want to mess with him. This particular waterfall is a remarkably large one, a veritable cascade crashing down over layers of slippery rock. Carefully, he makes his way down the banks that slope to the ground, towards the pool of calmer water below. At the bottom, the water's clear as crystal: all (or at least most) of the particulates have been filtered out by the mossy stones above. It's probably not the safest thing to drink from, but it's perfect for swimming.

He pries Zelda from his wrist and places her on a flat rock nearby so she can soak up a little sun. Next, he peels off his shirt and shoes and dunks them in the water to get the worst of the sweat off of them-- he hates the feeling of sweat against his skin-- and leaves them to dry on the rocks. Then he splashes into the pool, shorts and all. The sun has warmed it to just the right temperature: warm enough so he doesn't freeze his dick off, but cool enough to be refreshing. The waterfall behind him sends clouds of bubbles everywhere, turning the place into a natural Jacuzzi. He stretches out, feeling the dirt and grime washing away, and grins. “If I ever get back to Earth,” he tells Zelda, “I'm definitely getting Burnie to install this in his pool.”

It isn't long before he gets a little bored with sitting still and turning pruney, so he swims about a bit, pushing off of rocks and doing somersaults. It's deep enough that he can actually dive down a little, and when he squints his eyes open underwater, he can see that there's some seriously cool-looking stuff down there. His first handful brings up all kinds of little trinkets: bright-colored pebbles, a few shark teeth, even a couple pieces of metal etched with unrecognizable characters. He spends the next ten minutes or so diving and retrieving as much as he can, dumping it onto the grass by the edge of the water so that he can poke through the pile later and pick out the best stuff. 

After a little while, though, he starts to get the same things over and over again; as cool as tiny fossilized skulls are, he doesn't really need twenty of them. _Maybe they're cursed. I should give them to Gavin as a house-warming present-- wait, no, I'll save the creepy rodent teeth for him. I'm sure he'll appreciate it._

The sun is starting to get low in the sky. Time to go. Just as he's about to get out and let himself air-dry, he catches sight of the waterfall. _I wonder if there's more cool stuff behind the falls. Probably no one ever thinks to check back there...although I guess that's irrelevant, since no one else lives here but me..._

His feet touch the bottom of the pool with a few inches to spare, so he half-swims, half-hops over to the cascade. It's loud as fuck, and he tries not to think about how many gallons per hour are about to come down on his head, but the distant alcove behind it looks too intriguing to pass up. He holds his breath and plunges below the surface, hears the water bubbling over his head, and pops back up into the suddenly chilly air.

“Holy shit.”


	8. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael checks in, while Ray checks out.

It's totally unfair, in Michael's opinion, to have the mother of all hangovers when he didn't even get the chance to enjoy being drunk. 

Jesus rollerblading Christ, he hurts. It's not just his head, either, although _that's_ certainly singing a fucking aria of agony. His shins feel bruised and tender, and so do his knees, but when he checks them both, the skin is perfectly clear. There's not so much as a cut in sight. And if anyone had asked, he would have sworn on his mother's name that his nose had swollen to at least twice its normal size, but when he reaches up to touch it, it feels completely normal.

All in all, on a scale of “one” to “the newest member of Alcoholics Anonymous”, Michael is definitely somewhere around the “college freshman” level of hungover. 

Slowly, he sits up and waits for the sickly pounding of his head to subside. He's got no memory of whatever happened before he passed out, but that wasn't exactly unusual for him, especially not after a night out with the guys. _God damn Geoff and his unnatural tolerance. Total bullshit is what it is. Isn't your metabolism supposed to slow down once you get to his age? How can he possibly drink that much?_

And that's the thing that Michael can't figure out. This all-over body ache feels exactly like he drank too much and got into a fight, but he has none of the marks to show for it. His mouth isn't cottony and he doesn't smell like beer. There's nothing to suggest he did anything other than go to sleep a little later than normal.

Ah, well. It's probably nothing. Maybe he fell down the stairs and someone carried him home. At least the sun's warm enough for him to avoid freezing to death out in the open in the middle of his planet. 

...Hang on. 

The middle of his _planet_?

“Oh, fuck me.”

Everything comes flooding back. The game, the portals, the Land of Diamonds and Sunsets, and waking up in a dreamworld--

\--the sensation of a blade sinking into bone--

The world wobbles on its axis for a split second. Michael blinks once, hard, trying to focus, to erase the terrifying images of Derse from his memory. Had it really been nothing more than a dream? Impossible. There's no way he could have imagined the feeling of bleeding out onto a cold stone floor, the feeling of, well, _dying_. Maybe dreams, in this universe, really could come true, albeit in the worst possible way. After everything he's seen so far, it wouldn't surprise him in the least. 

But then that's doubly unfair. If dreams are real in this universe, then there's absolutely no reason he should be feeling pain when he wakes up, if he doesn't have any real injuries! Michael scowls in frustration. This hangover, phantom or otherwise, is making it way too difficult to try to think about deep things right now. 

“Fuckin' bullshit,” he says aloud in a hoarse voice. Fuck, his mouth tastes like a dead rat. “I demand to see a manager.”

Without warning, there's a burst of static through his earbuds. He'd completely forgotten about them, and they're still embedded in his ear from when he knocked himself out. The switch is set to “open mic”, rather than “push to talk”. “Ow, fucking-- what the hell was that?” 

“ _Michael?_ Jesus shit! Michael, is that you? Where the hell have you _been_?!”

He feels a grin light up his face. He'd know that voice anywhere. “Geoff? Yeah, it's me, I just woke up, and man, am I ever glad to hear your fuckin' voice--”

“For once in your life, Michael, shut the hell up, you have no _idea_ \--” Geoff's voice breaks off, strangely choked. But that can't be right. Geoff's hard as nails, one of the toughest guys Michael knows, there's no way he could be...

“Wait, is that Michael? What the fuck?” It's Jack. “Geoff just went to look for you, we thought you were--” He breaks off. “He just came back and told us what happened.”

All right, now Michael is officially lost. “Okay, _what_? What do you mean, what happened? How long have I been out? Where'd everybody else go?”

There's a long pause. Finally, Ryan speaks up. “Michael, you've been out for nearly six hours. All we heard was a weird noise and then your voice feed cut out. It looked like you hit your head on a rock and knocked yourself out, so we thought you'd wake up quickly. But you didn't, and, well...”

He spends the next few minutes giving Michael a brief summary of everything that had happened while he'd been unconscious. So far it seems like everyone else has been wandering around fighting monsters, for the most part. He doesn't really understand everything that Geoff tells him about their long conversation with Raysprite, but some of the stuff he'd heard while dreaming is starting to make a lot more sense now. Jack occasionally chimes in to clarify something about the game itself, and when it comes time to describe what went down on Derse after Michael died, Geoff takes over. 

And for the first time in recorded history, Michael is utterly speechless. He hasn't seen his boss this upset since the Dead Island trailer came out. 

“...and I woke up right after they stabbed me, with a bitch of a headache,” Geoff finishes. “Fuck, I swear to God I thought you both were dead. Raysprite told us that if you die on your planet, you can be revived with your dreamself, but I didn't have any clue what would happen if your dreamself died. Christ...” He swallows, and when he speaks again, his voice is cracking. “I can still see the two of you bleeding out.”

For a few moments it's utterly silent as Michael struggles to find something to say. “Well, I'm here now,” he says finally. It's the best he can do. “If it's any consolation, I figured out who's after us. Some bitch called the Black Queen. Someone told me she's scared that if all six of us ascend, we'll be able to stop her more easily. So she's trying to take us out before we get the chance.”

“Makes sense,” says Jack quietly. “She's probably not as strong as she anticipated, since Ray's the only one who actually managed to prototype anything.”

Hold up. Where the hell is Ray, anyway? “Wait, have you heard from Ray yet? Or Gavin?”

“Hang on,” says Ryan. “Ray just pinged me. Something's going on, he's been sending me messages for the last thirty seconds. Last I heard, he was getting ready to ascend-- I guess he already hit max level.”

“Already?” Jack sounds sour. “That kid's a fucking prodigy, there's no other explanation.”

“But I haven't heard from Gavin since that group chat we had with Raysprite. I'll be right back.”

“Hmmm.” Geoff is clearly trying to sound natural, but Michael can hear the tension in his voice. He's not all that hopeful himself, frankly. It's one thing for Michael to have survived this long, even after getting killed in his sleep, but Gavin gets lost on the way to the bathroom and can't fight his way out of a paper bag. But then again-- Michael's alive _now_ , isn't he?

“Look,” he says out loud. “I'm alive, and I pissed them off a hell of a lot more than Gavin did. All that asshole did was lie down and die in his purple fucking PJs. He probably didn't feel a thing-- maybe he's still asleep, or maybe he forgot about it when he woke up like I did, because he doesn't feel like he's been hit by a goddamn car. Come on, he's a useless idiot for sure, but even _he_ couldn't have died that fast--”

“Wait,” says Jack. “Hold up, you're his client player, right, Michael? When you were knocked out, Gavin was able to see you on his iPad. See if you can get a picture of him through chat, we'll be able to see if he's still asleep or not.”

“Oh shit, dude, you're a genius!” Michael's tablet is buried in his jacket somewhere, and it takes him a minute to wiggle it free. He flips up the protective covering-- which seems to have done its job during his fall, thankfully-- and swipes the screen to unlock it. Then he boots up the chat client, taps _visionaryPhantom_ to open a new chat window, and selects _Livestream._

Another window opens, and at first he thinks the app's crashed. The screen is utterly black. But not just an ordinary black. It's seething, roiling, a great cloud of pitch-dark smoke that seems as if it could ooze out from the screen and into the real world. Michael almost drops the phone in surprise and disgust. For something like the sixth time today, he thinks, _What the fuck?_

“Michael? What's going on?”

“Uh--” He closes the app, then reopens it. The smoke is still there. “I honestly have no idea. I think the app's glitched or something, or my phone's fucking it up. All I've got is a black screen.”

“Send out the link, let's see if it looks like that for the rest of us.”

No sooner does he paste the link into the chat than he hears Jack grunt in surprise. “This is new. Is his planet on fire?”

“How should I know? I just opened the stream and that's what it looked like.”

“Well, I'm out of ideas, then.” 

“Maybe he's asleep?”

“No, we could see Michael when he was asleep,” says Geoff, “this is different--”

Michael really doesn't want to verbalize the thought that's been crawling around in his brain for a while, but there's no way around it. “You don't think he's...that he...you know...” 

He trails off, unable to finish, but the rest of them understand immediately. For a few moments, nobody says anything. Finally, Jack speaks again. “I don't think so. We would know. I think the game would tell you if one of the main players died.”

In his heart, he knows Jack's probably just saying that to make him feel better, but Michael latches onto the idea with relief. “Yeah, yeah, that's a good point. Maybe he's just in an area with, I dunno, poor reception or something. Like a cave or some shit.”

Geoff doesn't seem convinced, but he lets it go for now. “All right. I just wish my screen wasn't totally black like this, it's creeping me right the fuck out. It looks like my phone wants to eat me or something--”

“Uh, guys?”

It's Ryan. Michael sits up straight. Compared to his, Jack and Geoff's gloomy conversation, Ryan sounds positively ecstatic about something.

“What is it?”

“Man, I dunno how to describe it, but...Jack, open up Ray's livestream and send us a link. You're gonna want to see this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know if you see any errors or inconsistencies, please!


	9. Ryan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray does the thing.

**_Twenty minutes earlier_ **

“Earth to Ryan. Come in, Ryan, paging Private Ryan.”

Ray's voice is uncharacteristically excited about something. Still, it's quiet in comparison to the others' voices. Ryan has to turn down Geoff, Michael and Jack's levels to hear him. “What's up?”

“I fucking did it, dude. I found my quest bed.”

Ryan gapes. “You're shitting me! Where was it? How'd you find it so fast?”

“I didn't find it _that_ fast. It took me a few hours. It was tucked away inside a big-ass waterfall. I just stopped by to go for a quick swim, 'cause it's hot as balls out here, and it was in a cave sort of thing behind the actual falls.”

“Huh. What's it look like?”

“Here, I'll send you a picture.” A shutter clicks in Ryan's earpiece. “It doesn't really look like a bed, more like a big slab of rock with a weird symbol on it. But it's right under this super tall cave ceiling, covered in stalagmites or stalactites or whatever they're called, and there's four big posts on each corner, like an actual bed.”

Ryan's phone pings. He unlocks it and peers at the photo. “I see that you conveniently neglected to mention that it's bright pink.”

“Shut up. Pink is manly as hell,” says Ray defensively. “You're just jealous. Hey, now I'm literally swimming in pink, like I do, all day erry day. Heyoooo.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “You got me there. So, Mr. Narvaez, what will you do now that you've slain all the monsters and found your quest bed? Do you have a speech prepared? Surely this must be a magical moment for you.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I'd like to thank the Academy, and my mom and dad for always supporting me in everything I do. And Scarlett Johansson for being super hot. But no thanks to Ryan Haywood, for being his usual douchey self.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up...”

“Damn straight.”

There's a pause. Finally, Ryan says, “So. Seriously, what do you do now that you've found it?”

Ray's silent for a few moments, and then for a few minutes, until Ryan starts to wonder if Ray even heard him. “Yeah...I guess this is the fun part. You remember what Raysprite told us, right? About how we're supposed to ascend?”

It takes Ryan a minute to dig through his memories of the group chat. It feels more like it was weeks ago, instead of less than twenty-four hours. And then he remembers. His heart sinks in his chest. “You can't be serious. You're really gonna kill yourself on the advice of that... _thing_? That's an awful idea! What if it was just fucking with us? You said so yourself, it's a jackass, you've got no way of knowing if it's really telling the truth!”

“Well, that's the thing,” says Ray calmly, as if talking about his upcoming suicide is a perfectly ordinary topic of conversation. “I'm pretty sure he can't actually lie. Not to me, anyway. It's part of his programming-- he's designed to be a sort of guardian. He can exaggerate, and stretch the truth, but that's the limit of his capabilities. And I think it's pretty hard for him to do even that much. But even if he could, I don't think he'd screw with me about something this important.”

How is it that Ray doesn't sound even remotely nervous? Ryan would be shaking like a leaf if it was him about to go die on a cold piece of rock all by himself, and he wasn't one hundred percent certain he'd be coming back to life. _Raysprite had better be right about this._ “And you're still going along with it? What if-- what if you kill yourself the wrong way, or it turns out that's not the right quest bed-- or hell, what if you do everything right and you _still_ don't come back to life?”

“Jesus, man, thanks for your support, I'm glad you've got such confidence in me.” Ray laughs, a little too high-pitched. Only then does Ryan realize that yeah, okay, maybe Ray isn't as cool as he seemed. Maybe he is, in fact, scared shitless.

“How are you gonna do it?”

“ _Gonna_ do it?” Ray laughs again. “Already did it, bro. Two minutes ago. Turns out not all the snakes on my planet are non-toxic. And they don't always like being picked up. Sorry, Zelda.” His voice is starting to slur slightly. “I mean, go big or go home, right? YOLO.”

_Oh my fucking God_. “I really _hope_ you don't only live once, you dumb piece of shit! You couldn't have at least waited until one of us could get to your planet? We could've helped you! We could've ascended together!”

“Nah. Would've taken too long. I would've...lost my nerve...” Ray trails off. “Damn, this bed is...super uncomfortable...”

Now Ryan _is_ shaking like a leaf. He's listening to his best friend die over a headset mic, and all he can do is listen to him bitch about his deathbed. Then he remembers the other three Achievement Hunters. Only an hour ago, Geoff watched someone murder both Michael and Gavin, and now Ryan has to be the one to tell him that Ray's about to die. 

But what if it works? What if everything goes exactly as planned, and Ray somehow comes back?

They need to be here for this.

“Ray, hang on, just a few seconds-- I'm gonna get Michael and Geoff and Jack, they're busy fucking around-- don't move--”

“Wasn't planning on it,” says Ray thickly. 

Frantically Ryan clicks his headset back into the main chat. The other three are in the middle of a conversation, but he doesn't feel the least bit guilty about interrupting. “Uh, guys?”

“What's up?”

Jesus, how the hell is he supposed to tell them what's going on? _Our friend just killed himself while he's stuck in the middle of a cave, thousands of miles away. Tune in now and listen to him breathe his last!_

But wait. Jack was Ray's server player. A picture's worth a thousand words, right?

“Man, I dunno how to describe it, but...Jack, open up Ray's livestream and send us a link. You're gonna want to see this. Do it now.”

Jack doesn't argue, just obeys. A few seconds later Ryan breathes a sigh of relief as his phone loads an image of the Land of Roses and Waterfalls. It zooms in on the planet's only human inhabitant, Ray Narvaez, Jr., lying on a massive block of pink stone with a heart-shaped symbol carved into it. He's pale as death, unmoving, and surrounded by hundreds of-- Ryan squints-- dragonflies? They're positively swarming, covering Ray in shimmering blue shapes, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes drift shut. 

Ryan's chest feels tight, too tight to breathe. 

“This is gonna be good,” Ray whispers. He breathes out one last time.

It's utterly silent. Even the wind in the trees on the Land of Moons and Pines has stopped. Ryan holds his breath.

And ever so slowly, Ray's body begins to glow.

* * * * *

paternalRogue [PR] began pestering visionaryPhantom at 17:15 –  
visionaryPhantom is idle! They will receive your messages when they become active. –  
PR: Gavin, goddammit, where are you?  
PR: You're gonna hate yourself if you miss this.  
PR: Fine. If you get back online in the next ten minutes, click on the link.  
paternalRogue ceased pestering visionaryPhantom at 17:16 –

* * * * *  
The sky above Jack's land is cloudless, for once, giving him a clear view of exactly what's happening. One of the five planets orbiting the Land of Lava and Bells is exploding with beams of light, radiating outwards like a supernova. It's big enough for Jack to see even from his own planet: a glittering marble, a star the size of a sun. The clouds over Ray's planet are shifting and parting like a storm, and maybe it's just Jack's imagination, but it almost looks like a symbol is floating just above them.

Something that looks almost like a...heart?

Goosebumps crawl up his skin. He looks down at the livestream. Ray's body is hovering above the bed, supported by dragonflies bearing him up and through an opening in the roof of the cave. Once outside, they come to a halt. One by one, they fly away, leaving Ray suspended in mid-air. His arms dangle loosely at his sides. Everything is still.

Suddenly, Jack's screen bursts into light.

The Rogue of Heart is rising up.

* * * * *

It's not the sunsets, this time, that are making the skies of Michael's planet glow pink and violet. The Land of Roses and Waterfalls is lighting up like it's the fucking Fourth of July. The Land of Roses and Waterfalls is too far away for him to see much, but it's impossible to miss the streams of light erupting around the distant planet. It looks a little like images he's seen on the Internet of solar flares and CMEs, if the sun suddenly turned pink and started throwing off fifty of them at once.

Michael's not entirely certain what it means-- he only got the condensed version from the Gents about what exactly it meant to reach “god tier”-- but even he can sense the power of this moment. There's magic in the air, a kind that can't be explained through science or prayer. All Michael and the other three can do is sit, silent, watching their friend transform into...something. Something more than human. 

He grips his phone tight, as if he can reach through cyberspace and hold onto his friends by proxy. The screen is so bright it hurts his eyes to look at. There's nothing visible of Ray anymore; only light.

* * * * *

Yet another column of light bursts into the sky above Geoff, one last time.

He shields his eyes and wishes, not for the first time, for a good stiff drink.

* * * * * 

The initial fireworks display seems to be over, but the Land of Roses and Waterfalls isn't done with Ray just yet. At the very least, to Ryan's relief, his phone screen is clear for the moment and he can see Ray's body again. It's still hovering, limp, above his quest bed. And maybe it's just Ryan's eyes playing tricks on him, but it seems like his skin is looking significantly less pale... 

Nope, it's real. The color is coming back into Ray's cheeks. His T-shirt and jeans are fading away, to be replaced by elegant yellow pajamas with a white crescent moon on the front. A shower of sparks explodes around him, raining down onto the bed below. Then a strange pink mist rolls across the screen, blocking Ryan's view again. There's nothing he can do now but wait, and hope that everything is happening the way it's supposed to. 

Sixty seconds pass. A minute and a half. Two minutes. He's just starting to feel the first stirrings of panic when it happens at last: something flares at the center of the screen, growing into a sparkling light, becoming larger and larger until his screen is nothing but white. Finally, with a flash of pink and purple lights, the mist clears. And what's left leaves Ryan's mouth wide open.

Ray is floating upright, hanging in the air like it's the most natural thing in the world. There's a familiar smirk on his face. But even on his little five- by two- inch display, Ryan can see that it's definitely not the same Ray he was speaking to five minutes ago. Something's changed in him, something fundamental. Not the least of which is his clothes, which have been replaced by a hooded cape and long pants that fit him perfectly. All are colored a deep wine color, except for his shirt, which under the cloak is a pale pink, emblazoned with the same heart engraved on his quest bed. 

And perched jauntily on his nose, attached by nothing that Ryan can see, is a goddamn _mask._

“Jesus jumped-up Christ on a crucicracker,” croaks Michael, and Ryan jumps. He had forgotten that the others were watching as well. “Does someone wanna tell me what the _fuck_ just happened?”

“I'm not so sure I understand, myself,” Ryan says shakily.

Ray, meanwhile, is grinning like a loon. He waves cheerfully to nothing in particular, apparently aware that they're all watching him, and does a few backflips. Then he drops to the ground to grab his headset and puts it on.

“'Sup, losers,” he says. To Ryan's relief, he sounds almost exactly like the old Ray. But there's still something about his voice-- a deeper tone, or a slower inflection, he can't quite put his finger on it-- that makes him sound somehow different. Older. “You're looking at the newest Rogue of Heart. Gaze upon me, and be amazed.”

With that, he tosses the headset to the ground and soars away.

There's a long pause. 

Then, from Geoff: “What the hell was that?”

“I think,” says Jack slowly, and Ryan hears the smile in his voice, “that our little Ray just hit god tier.”


	10. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ray tries to help, and the guys make plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: discussions of flashbacks, trauma and violence.

Twenty minutes later, Ray still hasn't stopped whooping and gloating. Apparently, much to the consternation of the other Achievement Hunters-- who are still bogged down by headsets and mics-- all that electronic shit is unnecessary once you reach god tier. Ray can speak directly to each of them, together or individually, and hear them in turn with just a slight effort of will, a fact which he's made excellent use of.

“Do I look as hot as I feel? Because this outfit is making me rock hard.”

Michael groans. “Ray, I swear to God if you don't shut up, I'm gonna do something you'll regret. Maybe we'll find out how well the Rogue of Heart stands up to _open_ heart surgery, performed via ballpoint pen. How does that sound, huh?”

Ray just grins, bouncing up and down. “Aw, Michael, I'm glad you're happy for me. That means a lot.”

“Shut the fuck up and quit bouncing. You look like a goddamn jackrabbit, and you're making me seasick.”

“Yeah, well, your _face_ makes me seasick too, so it's only fair.”

Jack chuckles. Michael tries to glare, but there's nothing around for him to glare at, so he settles for eyeballing a nearby rock instead. “Jack, you're a traitor.”

“Sorry, but you set yourself up for that one.”

“Fine. Whatever. Hey, Pink Power Ranger, I don't suppose you have any bright ideas about where the rest of our quest beds are? 'Cause I don't even know where to start here.”

“You just have to believe in yourself. Really dig deep, get to know yourself, let your inner child guide you to it--”

Michael's about to have an aneurysm, and Ray isn't even finished. “Plus, you gotta kill more monsters first, big shot. Can't reach god tier without breaking a few eggs. Also, go put some ice on your face or something, it is legitimately making me feel sick to look at.”

“Is it really that bad?” Michael reaches up to touch his cheek, and winces. “I mean, I get that I did a fucking faceplant into a rock and all, but...”

“Nope, Ray's right,” says Geoff, “you're all swollen and bloody. Real attractive.”

“Really? I dunno, Michael, I thought you looked the same as ever.”

“Wow, thanks, Jack.”

“So what kind of powers does a Rogue of Heart have, anyway?” asks Ryan. “You gonna help us save the planet through the power of love? Do we get magic rings and combine our powers to summon Captain Planet?”

“You're hilarious, you know that?” Ray says dryly. He's quiet for a minute. “Actually, it's sad, but I think that kinda _is_ what I'm supposed to do. I dunno how to describe it, really, it's just instinctive. It feels like Heart's supposed to inspire people and bring them together. To keep their souls from splintering...”

Jesus. _Guess we really do get superpowers._ Michael had expected something more along the lines of some kind of enhancement or buff from going god tier, not a legitimate healing ability. _I didn't sign up for this Justice League shit. No one told me I was gonna have to join the fucking X-Men..._

“Splintering? What's that supposed to mean, that we're losing our minds?” Geoff's voice is sharp with irritation. “I dunno what you're talking about, I feel fine, personally.”

Everything suddenly gets quiet. Michael senses that somehow the conversation has gone from mostly-joking to abruptly serious, and the awkwardness is almost painful. Nobody says anything. The tension between the five of them, already simmering just below the surface, has finally come to a head. Michael's about to open his mouth to say something when suddenly, Ray says quietly, “Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure--?”

“Because you don't really sound fine. And you didn't sound fine when you were talking about what you went through on Derse.”

“You weren't even there!” Geoff snaps, his voice cracking. “How do you know what I saw, or what I felt? I-- oh, Christ, can you read minds? Don't tell me you're a fucking telepath, Jack's bad enough already--”

“Hey!”

Ray sighs. “No, I can't read minds. Thank God. I really don't wanna know what it's like in any of your brains. It's more like...shit, I dunno. I can get a sense of what you're feeling, what you're experiencing. I can feel what you're going through, if your emotions are loud enough.”

“Like empathy,” Ryan says softly, almost to himself.

“Kinda, yeah. And if I really concentrate-- it's kinda hard, but I think I can get it-- I can do this...”

It's silent again for a long moment. The only thing audible is the sound of Geoff breathing shallowly. Michael's curiosity eventually gets the better of him, but before he can ask what's going on, Geoff sucks in a loud gasp.

“What the hell was that?”

“Feel better?” Ray sounds almost out of breath, but his voice has a smirk in it.

“I-- no! Damn it, what the fuck did you just do to me?”

“Well, if you'd stop holding on to your hatred and let go of your anger for a little bit, I think you'll figure it out.”

Okay, this is getting really weird, really fast, and Michael's getting a little tired of these back-and-forth conversations that fly right over his head. “For those of us not privy to your creepy little mental exchange, would you mind telling us what just happened?”

“Geoff, do you mind if I tell them? It's easier than trying to demonstrate again...”

“Go ahead,” says Geoff in a hollow voice.

Ray hesitates, then plows forward. “Okay. Geoff was feeling...not good about what he saw on Derse. Like, really not good. He was pretty traumatized by seeing Michael's dead body and watching Gavin get stabbed and then dying himself right afterwards. And even though his mind knows that you're alive, Michael, and that technically it was just a dream, his subconscious keeps replaying those memories like a movie, as if it actually happened while he was awake. Every time they replayed, they kept leaving deeper scars. It was gonna start fucking him up real bad if it didn't get stopped. So...I helped as best I could.”

“And what did you do, exactly?”

“I kind of...turned down the memories. Like lowering the volume on a TV. Made it so that they weren't so vivid. I tried to make the pain go away a bit, and make him a little happier. And...I think it worked, even though he doesn't want to admit it.”

“Yeah, thanks for fuckin' mind-whammying me without asking first, you prick.” Michael can hear Geoff scowling through his words, but Ray's right. Compared to five minutes ago, he sounds better. Less angry, more...hopeful.

“Jesus,” says Ryan. “I take it back, this is, like-- reverse empathy or something. Can you do that to anyone? Make people feel whatever you want? That's some Professor X shit right there.”

“I don't think so. Not all the time, at least. I can't really make them feel whatever, I kinda have to get the emotion from somewhere-- take it from someone and give it to somebody else. It's easier if I have more people around, 'cause then I can take it from a bunch of people instead of all at once from one person.”

“Hang on,” says Jack. “But you didn't take any from us, right? And you said you made him feel happier? Where'd you get the happiness from, then?”

“Myself,” says Ray sheepishly.

“ _What?_ Damn it, Ray, what the hell did you do that for, I wasn't in such bad shape that you had to go and fuck yourself up to make me feel better--”

Michael has to smile. Despite Geoff's best efforts to sound furious, he can't seem to make himself stay angry. Ray's really done a number on him. Not that the guy can hold a grudge at the best of times, anyway. 

“Geoff, shut up. I can read your fucking emotions, and yes, you definitely were. And it's okay, it wasn't that bad for me. All I had to do was remove a few things from you-- that doesn't cost anything-- and I didn't have to give you that much of a boost. I've got happiness to spare right now, anyway, I feel like I'm on top of the world.”

Geoff's still grumbling to himself. “This is creepy as dicks, dude. I want to be pissed at you, but I just can't. I feel like I'm in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or something.”

“Like the flashy thing from Men in Black,” says Michael, grinning.

“Yeah. Just warn a guy before you fuckin' neuralyze me next time, okay?”

Ray, for once, actually does sound apologetic. “I know. I will. Sorry.”

“'S all fine,” Geoff says. “You're just lucky I'm in a good mood right now.”

“Speaking of spotless minds, has anyone heard from Gavin yet?”

“Michael's the one with the stream on his phone-- hey, Michael, you wanna pull it up?”

He's already got the chat client loading. “Yeah, hang on.” He taps Gavin's name, and yep, there's  
the ominious black cloud of doom. “Still all dark and glitchy. Shit. You'd think whatever weird interference was screwing up his feed would've cleared itself up by now...I really don't like the looks of this.”

“I'm talking directly to him now, and he's not responding,” says Ray. All the laughter is gone from his voice. “I can't sense him at all, either. There's just...nothing. It's like he's fallen off the face of the earth.”

“All right, let's not panic yet,” Jack says. “Maybe he just broke his phone, or pulled a Michael and knocked himself out.”

“If he broke his phone, then why can't I sense him? He's not asleep or anything like that. I'd know if he was. Anyway, his dreamself's dead, there's no way he could be exploring Derse right now. Maybe he--”

Michael tunes them out, chewing at his bottom lip. The other Achievement Hunters don't seem overly concerned about Gavin's disappearance yet, and ordinarily Michael wouldn't be, either. He'd like to think that this is just another patented Gavin Free fuckup. Gavin's constantly getting himself and everyone else in trouble. There's no reason to think that he isn't just wandering around his planet with his headset turned off or something. But for some reason he can't shake the feeling that Gavin's in serious trouble this time. It isn't like him to completely ignore his teammates like this, especially in such a serious situation. At the very least he should be popping in to make fun of Ray and piss off Michael. 

While the rest of the guys discuss what to do, Michael closes the livestream of Gavin's planet and opens a new chat window.  


\-- electricAntagonist [EA] began pestering visionaryPhantom [VP] at 18:12 -–  


EA: hey dumbass talk to me  
EA: youve got us all worried about you  
EA: if youre just playing some kind of fucked up joke on us i swear ill carve you up like a fucking thanksgiving turkey and serve you for dinner  
EA: and everyone in the office will be like good heavens michael where did this delicious meal come from it tastes so delightfully fresh whats your secret  
EA: and ill tell them its farm raised organic free range idiot grass fed and raised without hormones  
EA: …  
EA: but if youre dead  
EA: ill bring you back to life and kill you myself

\-- electricAntagonist ceased pestering visionaryPhantom at 18:14 –-

Fuck it. There isn't anything else he can say. He taps the X in the corner of the window, probably harder than he should have. God dammit. Why is it always Gavin who gets himself into these stupid messes? Sure, it's hilarious in Minecraft when he falls off a cliff or takes a flying leap into a pit of lava or gets run over by a truck in GTA V, but he's almost equally as clumsy in the real world. Why couldn't it have been Ryan, or Jack, or Michael himself who got lost-- someone that he knows can fight and take care of themselves? Someone that he doesn't have to constantly worry about? 

And yeah, he _is_ starting to get legitimately worried. And so what if he is? His best friend is alone on an alien planet, apparently cut off from all forms of communication, surrounded by very real and immediate dangers. And Michael hasn't heard from him in almost seven hours, and he's stressed as shit, trying not to let the anxiety get to him, feeling a tiny bubble of nervousness in his throat that almost immediately swells into a burst of fear, and panic is making his insides twist in on themselves--

– and suddenly, he's not worried anymore. In fact, he feels pretty damn good. A feeling of peace washes over him, and it feels weirdly foreign in his mind, so used to anger and a tightly controlled temper. He knows he's supposed to be concerned about something, but for some reason he just can't be bothered. Everything's going to be okay. 

_Wait. This isn't right_.

Fucking hell. Michael knows where this is coming from. 

“God dammit, Ray!” he snaps. Or at least attempts to snap. The words won't come quickly enough. “What did Geoff just tell you?”

“Whoa, Michael, are you okay?” Ryan says, confused. “You sound--”

God, why won't people stop asking him dumb questions? He just wants to lie down and take a nap. “I know how I sound, dammit. Thanks a lot, Ray.”

“Sorry,” says Ray sheepishly. “You were panicking, I didn't think, and I forgot-- I just wanted to help--”

“Damn straight you didn't think!” He's still slurring his words, but the initial effects seem to be fading, enough that he can start processing exactly what's happened to him, and how pissed off he is. “You overdid it, asshole. Quit mind-raping people until you get better control over your stupid powers.”

Ryan chuckles. “You know, Ray, for some reason I don't think your little tranquility bomb was quite as effective on Michael as it was on Geoff.”

“Fuck off,” says Michael. Damn, but this is annoying. He's starting to understand why Geoff had been so pissed off initially. Michael _likes_ being angry; it's useful, and it helps him stay focused. He holds on to the last remnants of it, determined not to give in.

“I really am sorry,” Ray says in a small voice. “I didn't mean to.”

He sounds so pitiful that Michael can't help but feel a little bad. It doesn't help that he's having a hard time staying angry at anything at the moment. Then he wonders in the back of his mind if that wasn't Ray's intention in the first place: stop Michael from freaking out, and he'll be too calm to stay ticked off at Ray. At the very least, it was probaby a benefit that Ray had anticipated. _I've gotta stop underestimating that son of a bitch._

“Whatever,” he says out loud. “Let's just figure out what we're going to do about Gavin. Can one of us, like, teleport to his planet or something so we can figure out what the fuck's going on with it? 'Cause I'm really not liking this whole 'ominous cloud of doom' thing.”

“You and me both,” Geoff says, sighing. “I'm all for figuring out a way of getting to his planet and trying to find him there. I just don't have any idea how we'd get to it in the first place. Ray's the only one of us who can fly, and unless I missed a memo, I'm pretty sure even he can't breathe in space.”

“Hang on,” says Jack slowly. “Geoff, didn't you tell me your consorts were talking to you about your aspect? That you were supposed to be moving stuff around and creating things and building new universes?”

This is news to Michael. Building universes? What is this, the Sims? He shakes his head to clear out the last of the fog and focuses harder on the conversation.

“Yeah, I'd forgotten all about that,” Geoff muses. “They said I was a Space player, and that I as supposed to tend the Universal Forge or some shit. And fuck around with the structure of the universe, move around planets and stuff, I dunno. I wasn't really paying attention, there was a ton of stuff going on at the time...”

Wait, what? “Dude,” Michael says. “That's literally exactly what we need right now-- a way to get ourselves to Gavin's planet. Or a way to bring him to us, I don't give a fuck, whatever works. Either way, it's gonna mean the five of us going like five thousand miles through space. Are you saying you can teleport us there?”

“I think I have to ascend first,” says Geoff. “And that means finding my quest bed, and somehow I don't think I'm gonna be as lucky as Ray when it comes to finding it immediately.”

“Well, how many monsters have you killed?”

“Probably like a metric assload by now. Sure feels like it, at least. I've gotta be max level by now-- I dunno how to check, but it sure feels like it.”

“You probably are, then,” says Ray. “I don't think there's any real way of checking. It seems like the game just kinda decides for you when it thinks you're ready. It's not like a timer went off telling me that I finally had enough experience. I just found my quest bed and went for it.”

“Sweet. Here's hoping it works, then.”

“What about the rest of us?” asks Ryan. “Michael and I haven't killed jack shit yet. And neither has Jack, I don't think--”

“Nah, I've been tearing 'em up left and right, good buddy. Might be a good idea for us to ascend before we try to go rescue Gavin from whatever bullshit he's gotten himself into this time.”

“I don't know if we'll have time,” says Geoff seriously. “If you guys can at least get better at fighting shit before we go, that's probably the best we'll be able to do. If you can get to your quest bed before I do, Jack, then go for it, but I don't wanna delay this any longer than we have to. Even if it does end up with us finding Gavin stuck in a hole somewhere, in which case I will personally be the one to kill him on his quest bed.”

“Also,” Ryan adds cheerfully, “I have a giant dragon building a miniature underground factory in my planet. I figured I should let you know before I go and ask it for advice and/or kill it and/or get brutally murdered before I have the chance.”

“Great,” says Geoff, sighing. “Fuck it. Michael and Ryan, just do the best you can. Let me know if Jaws has any helpful clues for us. Jack, I'll race you to your quest bed.”

Wait. Are they fucking serious? They're just gonna let Geoff go and kill himself on the vague possibility that he'll probably ascend and return from the dead, while Ryan goes and talks to some kind of huge monster that's taken up residence underground? No way. He's already lost Gavin. That's more than enough. But Geoff's got a note of finality in his voice that brooks no argument. Clearly he means to go through with it. And Michael's had enough of holding back.

“Okay,” he says. “Lemme get this straight. Geoff's gonna go try and find his quest bed so he can fucking kill himself on it and hopefully get superpowers that can teleport us halfway across whatever kind of fucked-up solar system this is. Ryan's gonna go consult with some monster that'll probably rip him limb from limb. And Jack and I are just gonna go level grind for half a goddamn hour while Gavin's stuck inside a giant cloud of creepy black goo. Oh yeah, and I guess Ray's just gonna float around being Casper the Friendly Fuckface while annoying the shit out of everyone. Cool. I'm sure this plan will go off without a hitch, and we're totally not leaving Gavin for dead.”

The instant the last few words are out of his mouth, he regrets them. Everyone else is silent for a moment, and Michael wants to kick himself for losing his temper already. So much for Mogar the Hero. Some supportive teammate you are, jackass. But he can't swallow his pride enough to apologize, or take back what's been said. 

Finally, Jack says quietly, “If it's such a terrible plan, Michael, do you have a better one?”

And that's what grates at him more than anything. Michael doesn't. He's got no idea how to save his best friend. And that's his job-- whenever Gavin gets in trouble, Michael's there to bail his sorry ass out of the creeper nest, or giant ravine, or floating cloud of doom. That's what Team Nice Dynamite is all about. But he knows it's not a good plan. It's not even a halfway decent one. Nevertheless, he can't think of anything better, and he's itching to get out and do something instead of just sitting around debating what the next move should be. At least this way he knows that Geoff will, eventually, be able to help, and anything's better than this endless waiting. 

He sighs. “Shiny. Let's kill bad guys. Geoff and Jack, let us know if you make any progress, okay?”

“Yep.”

“I'll chat with Raysprite,” says Ray. “See if he has anything useful to offer. Probably not, but it can't hurt. Everyone make sure to check in occasionally, I don't want anyone else vanishing.”

“We're not going to,” says Michael firmly. “Now go talk to your weird doppelganger ghost thingy, I'm gonna go fuck shit up. Mogar out.”

After everyone else has signed off, he mutes his headset. If he's going to be killing enough monsters to make up all the time he lost while unconscious, he's gonna need to concentrate. Carefully, he pulls his diamond sword free from its makeshift sheath. It glitters in the light of the permanent sunset, sending a hundred thousand flecks of light skittering across the multifaceted ground. It feels good in his hand, like an extension of his arm. He's never used a sword before, not a real one, at least, but he figures he's watched enough Game of Thrones to get the basic idea.

There's something moving in the distance. He squints, the sun glaring off his glasses. It's a big black shape, with...flames coming off it? And yet it doesn't seem to be smoking at all. He creeps closer. The shape resolves itself into a six-foot-tall, incredibly ugly ogre-like creature, grunting to itself. Its back is to him, and so Michael is able to sneak up on it easily. By the time it turns around, teeth bared, Michael's already swinging the sword. Its head goes flying, bouncing along the ground. Thankfully, on the Land of Diamonds and Sunsets (or LODAS, as Michael's started to think of it-- the acronym's much less of a mouthful), there's almost no grass, lowering the chances of starting a fire. Although he notices, as the head skids past his ankles, that the flames don't seem to be producing much heat. Weird. He shakes his arms out to get rid of the unpleasant tingling that came from the shock of a sword connecting with a thick bundle of muscles, and sets off down the hill.

The next one he finds is some kind of weird cyclops thing. It's a good foot or two taller than him, butt-ugly and bulging with muscles. Despite its single eye, it sees him coming from a mile away and bellows a challenge. Michael swallows, forcing down a flutter of nervousness, and raises his sword. The cyclops charges directly at him. Without thinking, Michael sidesteps it nimbly. Anticipating resistance and meeting none, the monster loses its balance and stumbles to a halt. It quickly regains its footing, but not before Michael has slashed a long gash into its arm. 

It howls with pain and fury, and turns around to swing at him. Michael ducks, rolls, comes back up behind it. He's operating completely on instinct now. Nothing exists except for the sword, the monster, the heat of battle. Just as it raises its arms, rearing back to lash out once more, he sees his chance. He grabs his sword with both hands and drives it up into the creature's heart. It roars again, this time in true agony, and bursts into grist at his feet. 

Michael blinks. Slowly, the bloodlust and rage coursing through his mind begins to fade. His heartbeat returns to something resembling a normal rhythm. He's panting, his muscles burning as though he's just run a race, but he feels amazing. He hasn't felt this calm in ages, not even when Ray mind-whammied him. It's as though the fighting has drained away all of that coiled-up tension he carries around with him on a regular basis. And while being constantly angry does have its uses, it's nice to let it go on occasion. 

He hefts his sword in the air and grins at it.

The next forty-five minutes are a blur of adrenaline and grist as he beats the crap out of every monster he comes across, taking out all his anger and frustration. By the end of it, he's breathing hard and sweating in spite of the cool twilight air. He parries one more blow from a goblin, knocking it back, and finishes it off with one clean slice to its neck. It explodes, the last of a horde of tiny but remarkably aggressive imps. That was a thing of beauty. Too bad no one else is here to witness my dazzling display of manliness. He takes a seat on a rocky outcropping of diamond. I think that deserves a break.

Out of habit, he reaches for his phone in his pocket. Somehow it's miraculously survived up till now, and he makes a mental note to send a thank-you email to LifeProof if he ever makes it back home. It's only been fifteen minutes since he last checked on Gavin; there's almost no chance that his situation has changed in such a short time, but he can't help pulling up the livestream anyway. And there it is, same as ever. It doesn't scare him anymore, though, not really. All it does is make him angry again. How dare they? Who (what?) has the nerve to steal away a member of his team? Gavin is theirs, dammit, and nobody gets to mess with him except Michael. 

He shakes himself to snap out of it. Thinking dumb sappy thoughts like that won't get him anywhere, and sitting here lost in thought certainly won't help either. He glares at his screen and sticks it back in his pocket.

Then he picks up his sword, wipes it off, and goes out to hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to [meglm](http://meglm.tumblr.com/post/45965867294/so-this-might-be-the-stupidest-thing-ive-ever) for Ray's quote. It just stuck with me and I really wanted to use it. All credit for that sentence goes to her.
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/)! And I have updated [the guide](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/post/92002748704/heres-a-quick-list-on-the-various-pesterchum) to everyone's different classpects, dreamselves, and planets.
> 
> As always, please message me or comment with any mistakes you catch! And a big huge THANK YOU to all of those who have commented and left kudos so far, it really makes my day when I see them!!


	11. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who will get the tiger first?

Like hell he's gonna let Geoff beat him to god tier. It's bad enough that he's the one who's gonna get the awesome space-warping mutant abilities, but if he ascends first there's no way he won't rub it in Jack's face for the next week. But Jack's confident. There's a reason he so often wins the Tower of Pimps. He's the slow, methodical one who spends ages on minute things that nearly always pay off in the end. And for two hours now he's been steadily killing countless creatures, all black and strangely block-like-- almost like real-life Minecraft mobs. He's fashioned a slightly crude-looking axe out of obsidian; not the most elegant of weapons, but it gets the job done. He's never been much of a fighter, anyway, although maybe the large pile of grist he's amassed suggests otherwise.

If it weren't for the meteors, and the monsters, and the bizarre villains chasing after him and the others, this would be a really great game. He loves the idea of real-life Minecraft. A whole world to explore, custom-built for each of them, with in-game communication and bosses to fight? Hell yes. The only flaw is probably the whole permadeath thing, but hey, that could probably be fixed in later patches, right? He'll have to bring it up with the developers, if he ever gets back to his homeworld.

Heh. As if a game like this has developers.

Actually, no. Sarcasm aside, if he finds the developers-- and that's a big “if”, he's got no idea what kind of terrifying fucked-up company would make this kind of game-- he's going to punch each individual one of them in the face. And the publishers, and the writers, and anyone even remotely related to the devs. 

Maybe he'll lock them in the room with a couple of imps first, though. See how they like it.

Speaking of sadism, it's super unfair that out of all six of them, he ended up with the deadliest planet. Seriously, there is an ungodly amount of lava here, all of it threatening to melt him into so much charcoal if he gets too close. This is more up Michael's alley, or maybe Lindsey's or Ray's. All of them love this kind of danger, the adrenaline, the sense of imminent destruction. And maybe when Jack was younger, he would've liked it a little more. But now he's got Caiti to think about, and the company, and the rest of his life. He has too much to lose; too much for him to risk it by playing leapfrog over a boiling stream.

He's found a safe zone of sorts, at the top of a series of hills, so at least for now he's in a little less danger. And the bats are pretty good about warning him when a geyser's about to explode, or when he's getting too close to a magma pit, although it's kind of hard to tell the difference between the squeaks that mean “watch out, it's going to blow” and “have you seen that sexy bat chick with the black fur over there? Hot stuff, huh?”. Hopefully Ray's right and he'll be able to find his quest bed instinctively. Otherwise there's going to be a lot more leapfrog in his future. He slings his axe over his shoulder, feeling a little like a bizarre lumberjack, and sets off across the rolling hills.

Then, just for the hell of it, he pings Geoff directly.

“Hey.”

“Yeah?” Geoff says.

“You ever wonder why we're here?”

His friend's voice is dry to the point of desiccation. “You're hilarious, Pattillo.”

“Yeah, yeah, I missed you, too.”

“You really need to stop hanging around with the Lads so much. They're a bad influence on you.”

“Hey, I'm not the one who's living with the worst of them.”

“Fair enough. Although he did finally move out.”

“True. How's the search coming along?”

“Boring as fuck, dude. My planet really isn't all that interesting and the frogs are loud as dicks. I guess there's a lot of shit I'm supposed to do before I ascend, but to be honest I don't really care about any of that so I'm just ignoring them, and now they're pissed.”

“Sounds like a great idea.” He can hear them chirping in the background, and yeah, they don't sound happy. “Damn, they really are loud. I can hear them through your mic.”

“Yep. I'm gonna have even less hearing left than before when we're done. Can't really complain, though-- how's Lava Land?”

“Same old, same old. Hot as balls and super deadly. Think I found a pretty safe path, though. Hopefully. Any sign of our suicide beds?”

Geoff's wince is audible in his voice. “Jesus, Jack, don't sugar-coat it or anything. Nothing yet. I hope they're not hidden in a goddamn cave somewhere like Ray's, we're never gonna find them that way.”

“Pessimist,” Jack says cheerfully. “Maybe it's on top of a mountain with a big flashing neon sign above it that says WELCOME HOME GEOFF.”

Geoff huffs a laugh. “That'd be way too easy. We probably have to, like, find a troll under a bridge and answer his questions three or something.”

“Yeah, Monty Python style.” Jack chuckles. “What is your name? What is your quest?”

“What is the average airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?” They both laugh. It's silent for a few moments, before Geoff finally sighs. “Christ, are we really doing this? Killing ourselves and getting superpowers? Going god tier? How do we even know that this is gonna work?”

“It worked for Ray, didn't it?”

“Yeah, but he's...Ray. He's what, sixteen?”

Jack snorts. “Pretty sure he's twenty-five, last time I checked.”

“Same difference. He's a kid. He didn't know what he was getting into. He doesn't get it now, either-- he doesn't know the risk he was taking, and he doesn't understand what it means to be god tier! He's got these crazy abilities and I don't think he understands how to use them, or what the implications of them are. I know I sure as hell don't understand how mine'll work!”

“I don't think any of us understand,” says Jack. He pauses, focusing on a particularly treacherous-looking ravine ahead of him. As he gingerly eases his way down and across, he chooses his words carefully. “But...I think you and I need to give him a little more credit. It's not like he's the most reckless of us. He wasn't the one who knocked himself out or got himself trapped in a giant black void. He's not that young, not anymore. None of the Lads are. And I think, once we ascend, we'll know what to do. That much, at least, I'm pretty confident about.”

Geoff gives a noncommittal grunt. 

“Besides, just think how awesome it'll be when you can throw shit at Gavin with the power of your mind!”

His friend perks up a little at that. “Good point. Next time he fucks around with my desk I can just pick it up and beat him over the head with it.”

“See? It'll be fine. Worst case scenario, I'll come back to life with my dreamself. Then I just have to figure out a way to get to your planet and get a little gay with you. No big deal.”

“You don't sound all that enthusiastic about the prospect of making out with my dead body.”

“Somehow, that idea just never made it onto my bucket list. Maybe now is a bad time to tell you that I'm not really into facial hair on my partners...”

“Man, you should've brought that up before we left, I can't do anything about it now! Can't you just close your eyes and pretend I'm Hugh Jackman?”

Jack heaves a sigh of mock exasperation. “I'll do my best. For the good of the team. I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I'm making.”

“I do, Jack, I really do. All right, sloppy makeouts it is.”

“Okay, the bats are getting worked up about something, I should probably go see what they want. I'm totally gonna beat you, by the way.”

“Not a chance, asshole.”

Jack just laughs, and disconnects.


	12. Ryan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The R&R connection takes on an entirely new meaning.

It's no secret that Ryan is probably the most analytical of all the Achievement Hunters-- hell, maybe even at Rooster Teeth. It's not that he's smarter than the others. Definitely not. His mind just excels at attacking problems, picking them apart like complicated knots. He can spend hours wrestling with servers or learning every little detail of Galacticraft until he's a verifiable encyclopedia on the subject. It's why he's constantly trying to find loopholes during the Minecraft Let's Plays. Where's the fun in playing the normal way? He can't possibly lose if he knows everything. (Even though he does lose. Sometimes. But not often.)

The point is, he excels at rational thinking. So he should be able to think past the paralyzing terror chewing its way through his stomach as he stands a hundred feet from the entrance of his denizen's lair. Christ, what the hell is happening? He's got nothing. No armor, no buffs or enhancements. His only weapon is a silver bow-- a parting gift from his denizens-- and maybe a dozen arrows. What is he _doing_? 

Well, he knows what he _should_ be doing: running the fuck away before something sees him and decides to have him for lunch. If the dragon attacks, no amount of talking or thinking will be able to save him. But he still feels like he has to try. At the very least he should give the thing a chance to listen instead of charging in, guns a-blazin'.Who knows? Maybe it'll hear what he has to say. And if it doesn't...he'll make it work. Ryan's very good at making things work.

He creeps closer to the cave's entrance. The place is warmer than it should be, considering it's deep underground and damp enough to create a good-sized pool of water in a deeply-sloping cavern on the side of the hall. He glances at it, and makes a face. It's covered in algae and other things he'd rather not think about. Still, if he gets set on fire sometime in the next half-hour, which in all honesty is looking more likely by the minute, it might be a good way to put himself out. Out of curiosity, he tastes some of it, and promptly spits it out. It's the hardest water he's ever tasted, egg-like, with a bitter iron aftertaste, worse than the water back in Georgia. 

The cave itself is porous and pale white, with mineral buildups forming stalagmites and stalagtites all around the path that snakes through it. The walls around him rumble with the sounds of the bizarre workshop ahead. He takes a deep breath, then another, trying to calm his nerves. He's got his blow clenched firmly in his right hand and an arrow in his left, ready to nock at a moment's notice. The rest are in a makeshift quiver slung across his back. The corridor and the pool are bathed in an eerie orange-red light from the forges, casting flickering shadows along the walls. Ryan grits his teeth, willing himself to not panic, and turns the corner into the chamber.

He's braced himself for an attack, or cries of surprise at the very least, but there's no reaction. The imps working within the mines take almost no notice of him, apart from a few confused glances. Now that he's closer, he can see that they're not actually all black like he'd initially thought. Instead, they're faintly lined with green and silver, like a circuitboard. He walks through them slowly, braced for an attack, but nothing happens.

So he takes his time, marveling at everything going on around him. Their goal seems so ridiculously arbitrary-- he doesn't understand it at all, it's like the plan of some kind of supervillain. Surely Dr. No never sat scheming for hours, only to announce, “Yes! I've got it! By George, I'll turn all the trees silver!” And that, more than anything, makes Ryan want to believe that his denizen isn't inherently malicious. Maybe it's all a big misunderstanding. Maybe if he can work things out between the dragon and the Edgars, it'll be able to tell him what happened to Gavin, and where the rest of them can find their quest beds.

Yeah. And maybe Ray will go outside of his own free will, and Burnie will give up drinking. Ryan decides to file all three of those things under _situations that will never happen in a million years._

He makes his way past fires and forges and pots full of silver. At one point he passes a series of glas pipes extending into the ceiling, all full of molten metal. He stops short to look at them. It's starting to make him angry, this whole process. It makes no sense, and it's pissing him off. He's no botanist, but he's pretty sure it's actually impossible to turn trees into solid silver, even by messing around with their root system.

Maybe his denizen isn't murderous after all. Maybe it isn't benevolent, either. Maybe it's just insane. 

And there it is, curled up on a pile of boulders, smoke flickering from its nostrils. The size of it takes his breath away. It's as big as an eighteen-wheeler, and built like one, all stark muscle rippling under gem-like scales. Deep asleep, its eyes twitch under delicate bronze lids. Even from a hundred feet away, Ryan can feel the heat radiating from its body.

His feet carry him closer while he's still busy watching the dragon. Before he realizes it, he's barely fifty feet away. It's too much for his natural curiosity to resist-- how many people have gotten the chance to see any kind of mythical creature, let alone up close and personal like this? _Damn you, brain._

Forty feet...twenty-five...he can smell the sulfur in the air, braces himself for the inevitable roar of firey breath that's sure to come--

**Is this the part where I say, “I've been expecting you”?**

Ryan almost drops his bow in shock. The dragon hasn't so much as flicked an eyelid, but he can hear the voice in his head as if someone was speaking over his shoulder, clear as a bell. It doesn't sound at all like he'd expected. It has a faintly sarastic tint to it, as though she-- and it's definitely female-- is less than impressed by him. In fact, it sounds vaguely familiar, but he can't quite place whether it's the timbre of the voice or the cadence.

Then he realizes he's staring stupidly at the beast with his mouth open, and quickly backs away a few steps.

 **Oh, don't look so surprised. Did you think I wouldn't know when the hero of this planet finally returned? That's my job. I know _everything_ that goes on around here**.

Ryan doesn't know what to say. All his carefully planned ideas have flown right out of his head. He can only stand there, looking at it in wonder. What do you say to a beast five or six times your size that should, by all logic, not exist?

Finally, the dragon winks an eye open and looks at him with an amused expression. It unfurls its wings, shaking them out and washing a gust hot air over Ryan. Then it settles back down, watching him.

**For a human, you are certainly quiet. You _can_ speak, right? Or are you simply an idiot?**

“Uh, yes,” Ryan says without thinking, then blinks and clears his throat. “I mean, yes, I can speak.”

**Excellent. Let me introduce myself. I am Ramoth, Denizen of the Land of Moons and Pines, the queen of dragons. I weigh forty-five hundred pounds, my scales are harder than diamonds, and I can cut through a twenty-inch spruce with a swipe of my talons. I am the greatest and most beautiful of all living creatures.**

“You sound like Kathleen,” Ryan blurts out.

The dragon blinks at him. **Excuse me?**

Ryan flushes. Its voice is utterly deadpan; he half expects her to tilt her head and crack her knuckles, just like Tex's animations. _Now she sounds even more like her, and I don't think that's a good thing!_ “...Nothing.”

**...All right. Any questions, before we begin? I assume you are here to fight me, of course, rather than simply admiring me, tempting though it may be.**

Ryan blinks. _Well. This is off to a great start. Where the hell do I even begin?_ “Uh,” he says again, and pauses. “Yes. A couple questions, actually. I was hoping we could talk first, actually, and maybe get a few things worked out? Try to resolve our differences? Or something?”

Now it's Ramoth's turn to blink. Her eyes are faceted like jewels, constantly shifting between colors, with no pupil. Right now they've gone from a dark red to a bright baby blue. Ryan hopes that this translates to “I'm curious and would like to hear more”, as opposed to “your squeaky voice annoys me, now die, puny human”. **Go on,** she says.

He takes another deep breath. “Well, look, I don't really want to fight you. I don't really want to fight anything, actually, but especially not something as beautiful and majestic as yourself--”

Her eyes flicker to a pale lavender-- her version of a smirk? **Flattery will get you nowhere.**

He plows ahead. “-- and I was just wondering why you're doing the whole villanious dragon queen schtick? I mean, the whole thing with the trees, and killing the cows-- that's a little overdone, don't you think? Surely someone as noble as you has better things to do with their time than waste it on all this.” He waves a hand towards the furnaces. “Also, it seems like the Edg-- the cows really depend on those trees, and the silver is really screwing things up for them...is there any way you could, I dunno, switch to something else? Or stop altogether?” There's at least a hundred other questions he wants to ask, like _why_ and _what the hell_ and especially _how are you making this work, it defies all the laws of biology_ , but he figures it's best not to push his luck. The last thing he wants to do is piss off the queen of the dragons.

She cocks her head, as though thinking. **Why? Because I want to. I want more treasure. Wood and earth have no use to me. Neither do a pack of smelly, hairy mammals roaming the forests above. There is nothing in this world aside from trees and consorts, so I must make do with what I have. Why should I care about them?**

She makes a good point. He thinks for a moment. “If you want treasure, my friends and I have a really ridiculous amount of valuable stuff that we're never gonna use. Michael's got a planet made entirely out of diamond, and Gavin's got a silver _and_ gold planet-- more than even you could possibly know what to do with.. I'm sure we could come to some kind of arrangement.” He doesn't add that he has no idea how to get to their planets, or how to get the materials back to the Land of Moon and Pines, or that Gavin's currently AWOL. They can cross that bridge when they come to it.

Ramoth stretches luxuriously, inspecting the talons of her massive front paw. Her creaking tendons sound like a tree groaning in the wind. **You make a compelling offer. More silver than I know what to do with...that is tantalizing indeed.** Her eyes shift to green. Ryan holds his breath as she thinks it over, her lids falling half-shut. 

Then she opens them fully and levels him with a gaze of gunmetal-gray. **Oh, but wait. I'd forgotten. You have no means of getting it to me, do you? Since I believe-- do correct me if I'm wrong-- that your Hero of Space is still powerless, and the resident of your metal planet has, shall we say...gone grimdark.** She winks at him, still with that same ashen stare.

Ryan's stomach drops. “What do you mean, grimdark? You know where Gavin is?”

 **Of course.** He must look confused as he feels, because she gives a mental sigh. **I'm a denizen, genius. Part of the foundation of this universe. You really think I wouldn't know about it when the horrorterrors accept a new victim? A Time player, no less? Please.**

His mind is a complete blank. None of these words make any sense. Grimdark? Horrorterrors? Is he supposed to know what that means? “I don't-- I-- what the hell? What do you mean, _victim_? What are you talking about? What--”

 **Ah, ah, ah.** Yep, that is definitely a dragon smirk. **No fair pumping me for information yet. You'll have to defeat me first. So I should tell you now, Mr. Haywood: I reject your proposal in its entirety. It was a nice idea, don't get me wrong. But I'm afraid it's my way or the highway. I'll give you a few moments to vacate the premises...or I will be very unhappy.**

Ryan growls. _Oh, fuck this._ He hasn't watched his town explode, walked his friend through post-traumatic stress, and listened to his friend's dying breath to be killed by this bitch. He meets her gaze. “Or we could talk this out like two civilized creatures, instead of fighting it out.” Her gray eyes turn to black, but he's careful not to flinch. “Last chance, Ramoth.”

She just chuckles. Your **last chance, maybe. I like you. I almost hope you defeat me, I'd hate to have to kill you. But we don't always get what we prefer. I'll try to break the news to your friends gently.**

With that, she snaps her wings out to their full length, throwing the cavern into shadow. Instinctively, Ryan backs up, clapping his hands over his ears as she lets out an ear-splitting roar. _Fuck, fuck, fuck--_

The first jet of flame misses him by inches. He barely avoids it by ducking behind a massive pot of molten silver. She roars again, and he does an awkward somersault towards a furnace, hoping it'll protect him better than the silver pot. He's got to keep her in here, in the workshop, it's cramped and full of tight corners that'll prevent her from maneuvering easily. Unfortunately, it's also small enough that she can easily spot him; this time, when she shoots fire, his shoes aren't so lucky. It takes him a precious few seconds to extinguish the flames before he's off again. 

Finally he manages to wedge himself between a wall and another furnace. It's more than a little claustrophobic, but he's fairly confident she can't see him. It'll buy him a little time to plan his next move. 

Which is...what, exactly? He's got nothing. On instinct, he decides to ping Geoff. 

\-- paternalRogue [PR] began pestering pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] at 19:30 –-

PR: Dude, you gotta help me!  
PR: I'm being chased by a crazy dragon lady.  
PR: Like, a *literal* dragon lady. She's a bitch who's also a dragon.  
PR: Also she said something about Gavin going grimdark? And being taken by something called the horrorterrors?  
PR: I don't have a clue what any of that means but HELP!!  
\-- paternalRogue [PR] ceased pesetering pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] at 19:31 -–

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know of any inconsistencies or errors.
> 
> Also, drop me a line over at [digital-waterfall!](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/)


	13. Gavin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So he lets the darkness rise up and overwhelm him, lets it banish all the doubt and fear from his mind. It isn't hard. He's rarely been one to think before acting, and the voices, the horrorterrors, are raring to go, crying out for blood and vengeance.

When he wakes up, everything is dark.

His first thought is of his friends. Specifically, his friends' bodies lying bloody on his bedroom floor. The image of Michael's and Geoff's corpses are seared into his eyelids like plasma burn on a cathode ray screen. It stirs up that old anger inside of him-- but now it no longer feels unbearable or overpowering. Now it feels natural, like a power source.

His next thought is that _ow_ , thinking hurts. His mind feels scraped raw, an expanse of blistering pain. Trying to remember anything just makes it worse, and so does trying to concentrate. He gives up on attempting to remember what happened before he woke up; it hurts too much. It's far easier to not think about anything; to close his eyes and listen instead to the blackness that's roiling inside of him. 

So he listens. And learns, and understands. It's no language that he's ever heard before. The very sound of it is impossible to replicate with a human mouth. But he can still think enough to realize that he's probably not entirely human anymore. Not in the usual sense, anyway. And despite the fact that it's not English, the words they speak to him make more sense than anything he's heard before in his life.

They speak of power, of revenge, of knowledge too dangerous for anyone but him to handle: knowledge that would destroy his enemies and those who would threaten his friends. They teach him to use the darkness, to gain control of it and let it course through his veins like blood. He can feel the power surging inside of him, straining against its bonds, waiting to break free and obliterate anyone who stands in his (its) way. It sends little shadowy sparks through the thing that used to be his heart. The feeling is nothing less than intoxicating.

At some point, he realizes his eyes are still closed. When he opens them, there's a strange gray haze across his vision, like smoke. It doesn't obscure anything, though. In fact, it seems to make everything clearer. He's got the vision of a hawk-- he can see the tiniest details of everything, from the currents of the clouds hovering over Derse to the movement of the civilians below. Nothing escapes him. The Land of Diamonds and Sunsets is sparkling in the distance like a star made solid, and he can see every facet of it from fifty thousand feet above.

This is _fantastic_. He's never had this kind of power before, never come even remotely close. It's a heady sensation, a permanent high that clouds his mind in the best way possible, and just as addictive. He's never really been much for “feelings” before. Everything's just kind of rolled off him. There were a few things he cared deeply about: getting a job at Rooster Teeth was one of the most important parts of his life (despite the fact that it took him a good few years of laziness before he got his visa together), and he'd sooner cut off his own right hand than let his Phantom drop more than a few feet. But he just couldn't be bothered with Youtube comments, insults from his coworkers, money disasters, or similar things that seemed so ridiculously important to his coworkers. 

And yet now the emotions are overwhelming him. He can hardly see past the bizarre mixture of rage and passion and power that's bouncing around in his mind. Every sensation is amplified by two hundred percent, from the hairs prickling on the back of his neck to the painful tingling along his arms as the shadows curl around him.

Maybe he should be concerned about the ashen-gray color of his skin, or the fact that he's hovering several thousand feet in space. But he's too overwhelmed by a mixture of awe at his own abilities and residual fury from watching his friends die. He wants to just roll on his back and gaze up at the stars, reveling in his newfound gracefulness, but every time he blinks, Michael's glassy stare flickers across his closed lids. The haze across his vision is getting stronger, thicker, pulsing to the beat of his anger. He doesn't stop to wonder how Michael and Geoff got from their respective planets to Derse, doesn't stop to wonder why they were in a weird purple version of his own room. All he can see is his mate, his boi, lying on the ground with a broken neck, and Geoff throwing himself under the knife to protect whoever was lying on the bed. It was the last act of a desperate man, and now Geoff, the man Gavin loved like a second brother, is dead.

Gavin can't ever repay that act, but he can avenge his death.

It's getting harder to think clearly; the clarity he had just moments ago is slipping like sand through his fingers. He knows he should fly to Derse and hunt down the assassins. They could be after Ray and Jack and Ryan now, and he has to protect them. That's what the voices inside are telling him. But something else wants to go down to Michael's planet, some soft, sad part that hasn't been engulfed by the shadows yet. It wants to remind himself of what he's lost.

(And maybe, just maybe, to see if there's anything-- anyone-- left.)

No. There's no time for that. No time for silly emotions like sadness or hope. The only feeling that's going to get him anywhere right now is anger and hatred. So he lets the darkness rise up and overwhelm him, lets it banish all the doubt and fear from his mind. It isn't hard. He's rarely been one to think before acting, and the voices, the horrorterrors, are raring to go, crying out for blood and vengeance. 

_Listen_ , they say. _You are weak. You have always been weak. You cannot trust anyone. Your friends are dead. She has spies everywhere, and she will find you easily. You are not strong enough to see through her deceits. She will trick you as easily as she killed your friends._

“I won't,” Gavin whispers. “I'll kill her. She won't trick me, I promise, I'll get stronger, I'll find her and rip out her heart--”

_You must not trust anyone. They work with Her. Anyone you see could be an agent. You will die and your friends will die if you do not kill her first. You must hunt them all and make sure they are safe first, no matter what the cost, if you wish them to survive. But_ do not trust anyone.

“Yes.” He doesn't trust himself to say anything more, just lets their voices fade away to join the rest of the whispers in the back of his head.

Fine. A compromise, then. He won't go to Derse, not yet. Ray is the only other Lad left, and his planet is the closest. Gavin can pay him a visit first, and get some answers. The eldritch voices inside his head immediately voice their displeasure, but they quiet when Gavin pictures the two of them flying to Derse to wreak havoc. He's certain that his X-Ray will want to join him, after seeing what happened to Geoff and Michael. Plus, he needs to know that he shouldn't wake up on Prospit anytime soon, not with so many Derse agents after him. There's plenty of good reasons for Gavin to visit his planet. Right?

He lifts a hand in front of his face, watches the seething aura of darkness course down his arm and flow outward. They're not solid, more like amorphous shadows that are no longer attached to his body, oozing from his pores like smoke. He wonders vaguely what his blood looks like. If he even has blood anymore.

No matter. Time to go raise hell. He aims towards the Land of Roses and Waterfalls, grimdark tendrils streaming behind him, ignoring the frantic beeping from his phone. Messages can wait. He's off the grid for good now, and he's never felt better. His creeper scarf whips around his face, no longer grass-green anymore but black as night.

< k i l l t h e m >

< l i s t e n t o u s >

< u s e t h e p o w e r s w e h a v e g i v e n y o u >

< d o n o t f a i l >

“I _know_ ,” he snaps crossly, only it doesn't come out quite right. For one thing, his voice is hoarse, turning his words into more of a snarl and making him sound like he's got a mouthful of sandpaper. Whether it's just rusty from disuse or a side effect of being possessed by horrorterrors, he's not entirely sure. Also, it's not technially English, or anything close to it. It's something far more sinister. 

He decides he prefers it to English.

Enough thinking. Thinking hurts. He focuses instead on flying to Derse.

He's going to make them regret hurting his friends.

He's going to make them pay.


	14. Ray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to Train Your Dragon.
> 
> (Don't try this at home.)

Being god tier feels amazing. Ray's positive he would make millions if it was possible to bottle and sell this sensation. It's a natural buzz, one that makes everything seem infinitely clearer without fogging up his brain or giving him the side effects of Adderall or caffeine. It doesn't really make the game easier; it's more like he's been granted access to the developer's console, enabled god mode, and boosted his self-confidence level to 200%. Not that he gave much of a fuck about anything before, but now he gives even less fucks. Maybe it's just a Heart thing, but he can't help feeling that everything is going to be all right.

But he still wishes he could get to the others' planets more easily. It's a pain in the ass, having only one player who can teleport stuff-- although maybe they're lucky they got one at all. What would've happened if their session had spawned without one? That would have been _really_ disastrous, although he vaguely remembers Raysprite saying something about their classes and aspects being assigned based on their personality types. _So would we have always had a Space player, as long as we had Geoff? That's something to look into..._

That makes him even more nervous, though, thinking about Geoff and Jack trying to ascend on their own, especially considering the deadliness of Jack's planet. The last thing they need to do is lose their Seer and their Space player, their two most reliable sources of information and tactical ability, respectively. He still doesn't know what Michael, Gavin or Ryan's aspects are, but he knows that on his own, he won't going to be super useful, aside from moral support. What kind of a lame power is Heart, anyway? 

And he _really_ hates not being able to get to Gavin. It's awful to not be able to feel him with this newfound sixth sense. The other four Achievement Hunters are all there, fluttering around in the back of his mind: Michael, pissed off as usual and on a rampage; Geoff, tired but thrilled at the prospect of finally becoming a Hero of Space; Jack, vaguely annoyed at all the obstacles his planet's throwing at him, but equally excited. Even Ryan is there, nervous about-- something, Ray can't quite tell what, but still as curious as ever. The absence of Gavin pulses in his head like a neon sign, a big black hole where his friend's emotions should be. 

Ray makes a face and does a somersault in midair, trying to enjoy the sensation of flying instead of focusing on stuff that he can't control. Being a passive player is kind of annoying. But he's bided his time as a sniper in enough GTA Let's Plays that it's easy to think of this as just another heist with the Fake AH Crew. It's easier than thinking of all the possible things that could go wrong, anyway. And honestly, flying is fucking _awesome_. 

His snakes seem to enjoy it as much as he does. They're as happy as can be-- well, as happy as a snake can be, anyway. The first thing he did after disconnecting from the group chat was to find Zelda and coil her around his wrist again. She's his good luck charm, his cold-blooded amulet. At least, he's pretty sure it's Zelda-- all the snakes kind of look alike after a while. She's still attached to him, even as he darts through the clouds, tongue poking out to taste the air.

The constant emotional hum in the back of his head shifts slightly, and he pauses in midair, hovering, to focus on it. It's Ryan. He's still being his usual inquisitive self, but his feelings have more of an apprehensive flavor to them now. Apprehensive and...is that admiration? Or just sheer horror? Ray can't read his mind, has no idea what's got him so worked up, but whatever Ryan's looking at, it must be seriously impressive. He keeps an eye on his friend-- figuratively-- and continues flying towards a nearby hill, hoping to get a better view of his planet from there.

And then he screeches to a halt, nearly falling out of the sky, as Ryan's emotions do a complete one-eighty, sending adrenaline flooding through Ray. He catches himself, barely, and concentrates. Ryan the Curious Guy has suddenly become Ryan the Unequivocally Terrified Guy. 

_What the--?_

Ray feels his heart speeding up in sympathy, his hands turning shaky and cold. He forces himself to catch his breath and calm down; _he's_ not the one in danger. Not directly, anyway-- yet. _Shit. What the hell is he doing?_

 _Right. Focus, Ray. Let's be useful for a change and_ ask _him what the hell he's doing._

“Ryan, what the fuck is going on?”

“Ray?!” Ryan's panting and clearly astonished to hear Ray's voice. “How'd you--”

“Dude, your emotions are absolutely off the fucking charts right now, it feels like you just took a couple hits of meth. I can feel your heart racing from here.”

“It's--” Ryan pauses, gasping for breath. “Jesus, this is gonna take forever to explain, can't you just see it in my head or something?”

There's nothing nearby for Ray to bang his head against, so he settles for a double facepalm instead. “I can't read your goddamn mind, Ryan, how many times do I have to tell you guys?”

“Okay, okay-- I just went to go find my denizen, because I think she's the one turning all the trees silver. Remember how in the beginning Edgar gave me that little silver branch? Also, I figured that if I kill her, I'll get a ton of experience, right?”

Ray blinks. Out of the whole jumbled pile of words that just fell out of Ryan's mouth, very few of them made any sense. “...Okay...?”

“Well...I found her. My denizen. Turns out she's a giant dragon that wants to kill me.”

Ray should probably have some kind of a reaction to this, but by now he can't bring himself to care. Too much crazy shit has already gone down. He just takes this in stride. “And now you're running for your life?”

“Pretty much. Planning on heading for that pool near the entrance, because I think I'm going to go up in flames in a few minutes. Anything you or that sprite of yours can contribute would be super helpful.”

“Welp.” Ray debates for a moment whether to release his sprite; it's long past his time-out, but his medallion has stopped glowing. Maybe he's asleep? If he is, there's no point in waking him up now. Stupid ghosty asshole. “I take it you've tried talking to her?”

“Strangely enough, being logical doesn't always work with dragons.” There's a crash, and Ryan grunts through a burst of static. It sounds like he's diving out of the way of something. “If you have any pearls of wisdom to offer, sooner would be better!”

“Uh--”

Ray thinks fast. He's not Jack, he's got no instinctive knowledge of the game or of Ryan's denizen, and everything he knows about dragons comes from playing the Elder Scrolls games and Lord of the Rings. How the hell did regular people kill dragons in Skyrim? He's always played a mage, and it's not like Ryan's had any training in Destruction magic. 

But he _has_ always been quick to react to problems, and Ray is very good at thinking on his feet. And he's always kind of liked science. Ray thinks back to the opening cutscene of Skyrim, with the dragon shooting fireballs at a tower, which exploded like a bomb had gone off.

A bomb...

Maybe this situation isn't quite so hopeless.

“Ryan, you still there?”

“For the next few minutes, yeah. Can't guarantee anything past that, though, with the way things are going--”

“Shut up for a minute. Where are you at, a cave? I think I have an idea.”

“Uh, yeah. A big rocky cave, with a hallway outside that I'm about to run into, 'cause she's gonna find me any second now--”

“Okay, this'll only take a minute. You're an educated man, right? College degree and all that.”

“...It's in theater, but...yes?”

“And they're melting a lot of silver out there, yeah? Distilling it and stuff?”

“...Sure?” Ryan sounds a little lost, and Ray doesn't blame him. He's got no idea if this'll work, but it's their best and only shot.

“How sturdy is that hallway out there? Like, was it carved out, or is it natural?”

“Fuck if I know, Ray, I don't really have time to play twenty questions right now!” There's a horrible roaring noise in the background, and another burst of Ryan's adrenaline makes Ray jump. Ryan hisses something under his breath, then says, “It's, like, limestone, maybe? Shit, I dunno-- keep talking, I have to move--”

“Wait!” says Ray sharply. “Don't go down that hallway, see if you can get over to where they're messing with the silver--”

“What? _Why?_ ”

“Come on, man, you've read the Anarchist's Cookbook, right? Didn't you mess around with it as a kid?”

“That was Burnie, not me, and _where are you going with this_??”

“If they're melting silver, they've probably got some kind of chemistry setup back there. Like in Breaking Bad. There's bound to be something explosive nearby. I'm thinking some sodium or potassium if you're lucky, or at least some lye. Here's the kicker. Did your mom ever warn you about bottle bombs when you were a kid?”

And even though he's running for his life, scared out of his mind, Ryan somehow still manages to figure it out. 

“Jesus Christ, Ray, that's...terrifyingly brilliant.”

“Don't thank me yet, this might all blow up in our faces. Literally.” 

Ryan groans. 

“Or you might get roasted first.”

“Thanks for your words of support,” Ryan says dryly. There's a pause, and Ray assumes he's trying to get towards the melting pots without being spotted by his denizen. It's nerve-wracking as hell, not being able to see what's going on; if there was time, he'd ping Jack to get a livestream up, but for now he'll just have to settle for listening to what Ryan's telling him and reading his emotions to get a clear picture. He keeps quiet, just in case anything can hear his voice through Ryan's earpiece, resisting the urge to pester him for updates.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ryan says quietly, “Okay. The good news is, I don't think she can see very well, and she hasn't spotted me yet. Bad news, she's got a hell of a sense of smell, so she can still find me easily. I'm hiding behind a bunch of boilers, I'm gonna see if I can hunt down anything explosive.”

“Roger that. I'm not going anywhere.”

Back to more waiting. Ray bites his lip and tries not to worry too much; he knows as well as anyone that it's useless. He jumps when his phone buzzes in his pocket; it's Geoff.

\--pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] began pestering redRoses [RR] at 21:26 -–  
PA: have you heard from ryan??  
PA: he sent me a bunch of weird messages and now he's not responding.  
RR: yeah im talking with him atm. hes fighting his denizen.  
PA: oh, the giant dragon thing? shit. he mentioned that.  
RR: well its going about as well as could be expected.  
RR: hes trying to find something to blow it up and then go god tier after he gets all the xp.  
PA: uh. okay.  
PA: guess it's good to know that he's alive. so far, at least.  
PA: not much any of us can do right now i guess, so just keep me posted.  
RR: will do.  
–- pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] ceased pestering redRoses [RR] at 21:28 –-

As soon as Ray locks his phone screen and sticks it back in his pocket, he hears Ryan again. “Okay, I think I found something that might work. Lye looks like Drano, right? Weird white powdery stuff?”

“Think so, yeah.”

“Cool. I found a lot scattered near an anvil, so I got some and stuck it in a couple of bottles. Found some aluminum shavings, too-- there's enough here for two or three bombs. Ray, man, they call me the mad one, but you're an evil genius.”

Ray grins. “All right, Ghost Rider, don't get cocky. Those bottle bombs aren't very powerful. I was hoping you could find enough that you could make that whole cave collapse, but I guess this'll have to do.”

“What's the plan, then?”

“When Smaug gets close enough, wait for her to open her mouth and throw that motherfucker in. I'm hoping the throw and the heat of her insides will make it explode in her stomach and...you get the picture.”

“...You realize that's going to involve me standing in front of a gigantic flame, right? And/or right next to her teeth?”

“Hey, if you have a better idea, just say the word.”

Ryan groans. “Fine. If I die, make sure my funeral has an open bar.”

“I wouldn't have it any other way.”

“You're a great friend. Now shut up and let me do this. I can't concentrate on running for my life if I've got you chattering away in my ear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, hit me up over at my blog, [digital-waterfall](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/)!


	15. Geoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grimdark Gavin wants to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Obviously this is RPF, something I swore to myself I would never, ever get involved with. And yet, here we are.
> 
> As such, this fic will involve or mention some of the family members of the Achievement Hunters (although I'll try to keep it to as few as possible). However, Geoff has explicitly said that he does not want Millie featured in any fics whatsoever, which I support 200%. She is underage and does not belong in fanfiction or anything of this nature (seriously, please please don't include her in it, it's gross and really not okay at all). Geoff is a fucking badass dad and I basically want to be him when I grow up, but I will only be mentioning Griffon in this fic, because the Ramsey family is extremely important, and as far as I know she has not mentioned anything about fanfiction. (Hopefully she'll never find this.)

Maybe it's just the fact that he's used to the Texas heat, the dry spells that last for months at a time, but honest to God, this planet is damp as _dicks_. By this point, Geoff is certain that he's growing mold, or possibly some kind of alien fungus. His sneakers are soaked, and the knees of his jeans are grass-stained from tripping over a slippery patch of moss earlier. Gavin was wrong-- wet bread is definitely not the grossest things on the planet. Wet socks take the gold on that front.

_This damn quest bed had better be worth it._ If someone had told him, five years ago, that he'd be traipsing through the swamps of Dagobah, looking for a giant stone so that he could kill himself on it, in order to gain superpowers that would let him move stuff with his mind like a fucking Jedi knight, he'd have told them to go home and sleep it off, because they were obviously blackout drunk.

Then again, if someone had told him, _fifteen_ years ago, that eventually he'd be working at a company where he got paid to play video games with his friends and say stupid shit into a mic all day, he would have told them the same thing.

It's about time for someone besides Ray to go god tier, though. It's bad enough having that little shit prancing around in his stupid pink pajamas. Knowing that he's also got some kind of weird empathy shit going on makes Geoff's competitive side flare up in annoyance. 

He really shouldn't give as much of a shit as he does about Ray's newfound abilities. If he can make people happy with them, more power to him. It's the fact that he's a higher level than Geoff, as well as having that overpowered Professor X shit, that pisses him off. Even if Jack gets there first, he'll be happy, just as long as it's another Gent and not a Lad. Michael _and_ Ray being god tier would be too damn much. They'd never stop rubbing it in his face. 

Fuck, he misses his friends. Hell, he misses his _family._ Thinking about Griffon is a physical ache, a bruise on his heart that's swollen and tender. He's been purposefully trying to avoid thinking about her, because any time she enters his head, it's like taking a broken arm and wrenching it. He'd told her, over and over, when they were first married, that he would do absolutely anything for her, and that hasn't changed. Nobody in their right mind would be stupid enough to mess with her, or separate them, because Geoff would happily tear the universe apart to get back to her.

And that's exactly what he's going to do. Whenever he feels himself slowing, whenever the hill in front of him seems to stretch upwards for miles and his thighs are steadfastly refusing to take any more strain, he thinks of Griffon. The way she gave the tiniest smiles, no more than a quirk of her lip, that somehow lit up her whole face. The watercolor lace of tattoos up her arms that are far more elegant than his could ever be. How even though she was maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet, she could take a chainsaw to a block of wood and turn it into a work of art.

Geoff has to get through this, for her sake. If he dies here, he knows she'll bring him back and kill him again, only _way_ more painfully. He'd take a murderous assassin or a crazy dragon over an angry Griffon any day of the week-- Griffon lives with him, and she can dual-wield chainsaws. He's shuddering just thinking about it.

Okay, these hills are getting seriously boring, and thinking about Griffon is too painful. He'll find her again, no matter what it takes. No question. So there's no point in dwelling on it, because there's simply no chance that he won't get back to her. Instead, he decides, it's better to focus on trying to find Gavin.

– pyrotechnicArchitect began pestering visionaryPhantom at 21:45 –

PA: just a reminder that if this is some kind of run-on joke or prank, your ass is so fired.  
PA: also, a reminder that if this *isn't* a joke...  
PA: well  
PA: we're looking for you as hard as we can, man.  
PA: you're a piece of shit sometimes, but none of us want to lose you.  
PA: although i'm kind of less inclined to think that you're messing with us, now, if what ryan's denizen said was true.  
PA: i have no clue what “grimdark” means but it doesn't really sound like a good thing?  
PA: shit.  
PA: now would be a really really great time for you to respond, btw. for once, i'm not in danger, and i actually want to hear your dumb ideas.  
PA: gavin?  
PA: come on, gavin.  
PA: say something, you asshole!  
PA: wet bread wet bread WET BREAAAAAAD  
PA: american tv is better than the bbc  
PA: ughhhh!!  
VP: ...  
PA: ...is that you, gav?  
PA: jesus tap-dancing christ, where the hell have you BEEN?? do you have any idea how worried we've been?  
PA: why aren't you saying anything?  
VP: …....  
VP: …........  
VP: wͣ̋͒̾ͧ͒̓ͩ̔͞҉h̴̴̨́͗̿ͥ̑͗̓̿͠͠a̶̢̿ͪ̀͆ͦ̄̀̄ͦ͊͐̎ͥ̌͝t̶͛͋̈ͫ̅̍̿̌̽ͩ̎ͬͯ̌̐͊͞   
PA: dude, i can't understand what you're saying!   
VP: …  
VP: i͜͠t̶̴ ̸̢̨h̡̛͢u̧҉̶̶͝r̵̀͜t͘͞s̵̴ ̡͝į̨͜͏̡ ̶͜͝͞d̸̶̛́̕ó̸͢͏n̸t̢̡̡̛́ ͏̨͢u̸̢͏n̸̨̛͘͟d͟͜͟é̷̶̷͡r̷̀̕s̨̀͢҉̢t̵̡a̸͞n͏͘̕͏d̴̢͝   
PA: there's some kind of interference, can't you just talk to me over your mic?  
VP: ̀͏͡í͘ ̕͟͡d̴̶̕͟o͟n҉̢̀͢͢'̛҉̀t̀͜ ̸̶͡c̨͢͡͡a̸̵̧̧̨ŗ̧͜͠͞ę̸̴͟͡   
VP: s͠h̀͜͡҉̢u̸̢̨͟t͢͏̶́ ͢͢u̷̶p͢͡   
VP:̕͞...w̧̧͘h̀ơ̡̡͠҉ ̵̧̕̕à̀͏̕ŗ̴e̶҉ ̶̕͘͡y̶̵̷̸̧o̸͘u͢͢?̷̧́͠ 

Geoff taps his phone a few times in frustration. There's some kind of black cloud blooming across his screen-- the same kind that showed up earlier, when he and the other Achievement Hunters were trying to watch Gavin's livestream. It's making it almost impossible to see the words, but damn if he's going to give up now.

PA: gavin?  
VP: S̴̴̴҉̞̟̟̱͓̙̫̩̙͓͓ͅḤ̴̵͖͚̬̗̰̞̟̺̼̩͔͚̹̳͞ͅU̢̱̥̪̮̮̣͢T͈͓̪̻̰͈̗̯̺̙̫̕͠ͅ ͏̵̭͎̥͕͉̰̟̳̭͎̰̜͎̟̻Ư̴͎̤̩̪̦̝͉̣̻̹͖̝̣̗̣̝̜͎͍Ṕ͍̤̬̯̺͔̫͙͎͔̠͕́͘͘ͅ!͕̜̦̖̰͖͔͇͚͙̹͎͍̩̖̀͠!͖̲̲̮̻̪̱̦͈̫̙̖̣̖͙̬̀̕͝!̷̨͙͚̲͙͕̠̱͔̝̣̰̪̕ͅ 

PA: gavin i  
visionaryPhantom's computer exploded! –  
PA: ...what the actual fuck?

All right, then.

The black smoke fades away, then dissipates entirely. Geoff's not entirely sure what to make of that. At the very least, Gavin's alive. Probably. It was definitely his handle, and almost definitely Gavin himself, judging by his reaction to the wet bread. But it definitely didn't sound anything like him. Even aside from the weird glitchiness in his text, there's none of the usual bubbly, awkward, permanent-teenager Gavin anywhere in those messages. They're practically saturated with fear and fury.

And worst of all, Gavin didn't seem to recognize him. That, more than anything else, scares the hell out of Geoff. But at least Gavin-- if it really is Gavin-- is alive enough to respond to messages. There's still some measure of hope left. Geoff decides to wait; if Gavin's really as terrified as his messages seem, then it's probably better not to push him. It'll be better if he approaches Geoff of his own accord.

He ducks to avoid a low-hanging branch. He's distracted enough that it still catches his cheek, the pain snapping him out of his reverie. The trees are tall enough to form a canopy above him, cedar and cypress and other strange curvy ones that he doesn't recognize. Forestry is for nerds, anyway. Nerds who have nothing better to do than traipse through a trail that's little more than a break in the thick branches and get their shoes soaked through to their feet. 

The frogs have gone quiet, more or less. The whole place is silent, and every twig that he snaps with his big clumsy footsteps makes him jump. _I bet Griffon would be quiet as a cat in here. I keep scaring the shit out of myself._ He almost misses the endless chorus of the frogs now. At least they provided a break in the monotony. In the deathly quiet here, he can almost hear his brain working. It's a little scary. In Austin, there was always the I-35 in the distance, even at three in the morning-- the sound of nurses coming back from late-night shifts, and taxis bringing drunken UT freshmen back to their dorms.

But here, there's nothing except the sound of his own breathing. Nothing to stop his mind from splitting into halves so that he can worry about Griffon and Gavin equally. 

“Gavin?” he says out loud, just for the hell of it. “You there, Gav? It's just me-- it's Geoff. I'm-- I'm not gonna hurt you or anything, I just wanna know what's going on...”

No response. Geoff sighs. One last try-- maybe he's just hallucinated the whole previous conversation. Temporary insanity brought on by sensory deprivation. “Gavin, lad, you've got us all worried about you. Just tell us where you are, I'll come help-- we'll get you away from whatever it is that's screwing around with your computer--”

Suddenly, a hoarse screeching noise sounds in his ear. Geoff jumps almost a foot in the air. “Christ! Gavin, is that you?”

Static. Then he hears it: a muffled voice, so garbled and distorted that Geoff can barely make out any words. He can't even tell if it's actually Gavin. “I can't hear you, lad--”

“...Geoff?”

That word, at least, Geoff can distinguish. Even with all the static, he'd know that voice anywhere, and it makes his heart leap in relief. “It _is_ you! What the hell, man, we've been looking everywhere, why the hell won't you respond to any of us?”

There's a long pause, broken only by the occasional crackle of static. Geoff's first instinct is to back off, for fear of scaring him away, but then his inner Ramsey surfaces. What the hell is Gavin doing, playing around with his friends like that? They've been worried _sick_ about him, and this is how Gavin repays them, by deciding to play moody-teenager while Geoff's dying inside with every passing second that he spends apart from Griffon? 

Fuck it. Geoff's had enough of this eerie silence bullshit. “Earth to Gavin Free! Do you have any idea what's happened since you decided to go the fuck to sleep without telling anyone first? I've been scared as dicks! Mind telling me what the hell you've been up to for the last three hours?”

Gavin says nothing. Geoff's frustration continues to mount. “Look, dipshit. We're all losing our minds here and it didn't help that we had no idea where you were! So tell me where the hell you've been and what you've been doing or I swear to God, I'm going to fire your stupid ass when we get back to Earth, and this time _I am not fucking around!_ ”

Something croaks behind him. Geoff whirls around to catch a particularly large frog perched on a stone block a few feet away, staring at him disapprovingly. “Go fuck yourself,” he says out loud, not caring if Gavin hears him. He's done, fucking done with everything in this stupid game. “I'll yell at him as much as I want. Little shit had it coming. I--”

He breaks off. Something's whispering into his headset. He can't tell if it's Gavin or something else, but it doesn't sound anything like Gavin. At first it's inaudible gibberish, but soon enough he's able to pick out the occasional word: dead and Michael and blood and kill. None of which are particularly reassuring.

Before he can say anything, the whispering cuts off. Geoff frowns. If this is a prank, it's a fucking weird one. 

Maybe it isn't a prank.

Fine. One last chance, that's all Gavin gets here. 

“Please,” Geoff says quietly, “Gavin, just tell me if you're okay.”

In answer, Gavin lets out a snarl of rage that sends Geoff reeling backwards, fumbling for the volume control on his headset. 

“No,” Gavin hisses, “no, it's not you, it can't-- you're _dead!_ They're right, you're lying, I saw you die! You're all after me, aren't you, trying to trick me--”

“Wait, wait, what the-- _huh_?”

“--trying to catch me like you caught Geoff and Michael--”

“No, wait, Gavin-- that wasn't me, that was my dreamself-- look, I'm alive, and Michael's alive too! We just want to know what's wrong with you, and what the hell happened!”

“Nothing's wrong with me!” Gavin shouts. “I'm better than I've ever been. I'm _top_ , Geoffrey, just tippity-top--”

Geoff is torn between laughing hysterically and flipping the fuck out. On any other occasion, he'd assume Gavin was just drunk, or fucking around with him. But the weird black cloud, and the bizarre text, and the fact that there's already been all kinds of magical shit going on in this game, makes him think twice. 

But what else could it be?

“Gavin, are you high, or something? I don't have a clue what you're talking about!”

“Oh, I'm the opposite of drunk,” Gavin hisses. “I'm seeing everything so much more clearly now, Geoffrey. But that's the thing, innit? You aren't Geoff. You work with _her_ , that's what they told me, and that means I'm going to kill you like I'll kill her because _you murdered my friends!_ ”

With those last few words, everything crashes into place. Sort of. Geoff still doesn't get exactly what's going on, but he's willing to bet the horrorterrors that Ryan mentioned have something to do with this, whatever they are. Somehow they've convinced Gavin that Geoff and the other Achievement Hunters are dead, and the Dersite agents are impersonating them. 

Somehow, Geoff doubts that the horrorterrors operate by sending friendly little notes to their protégé. He's got a feeling their modus operandi is a lot more...possessive. His heart sinks; he's miscalculated, badly. It doesn't matter where Gavin is. He's already lost to Geoff now. 

Still, he has to keep trying. “Gavin, please, it's me, look-- I'll prove it! What was the bar we went to on the night you first moved in?”

Gavin just laughs sadly, and Geoff shudders at how different it is from his normal squawking giggle. This laugh is so utterly defeated and hopeless-sounding that it makes his insides curl. “But it _isn't_ you, Geoffrey. You think a silly question like that proves anything to me? I saw you die on Derse. I can't trust anything anymore, and I certainly can't trust you. Unless _they_ tell me that it's true. If you're Her-- or you're working with Her-- well. You killed Geoff, and you killed my boi, and I can't forgive that. I'll kill you for it.

“Or maybe I'll just turn you grimdark too.”

Oh, Christ. _Color me fucking terrified. Gavin's lost his goddamn mind. What the fuck am I gonna do?_ He takes a deep breath and spends a precious few seconds thinking. _Okay. Don't panic. They're not letting him go anytime soon. Gotta get the others to help me._

He's not giving up. He _isn't._ He's regrouping, that's all-- planning his next course of action. Step one: find Jack. Step two: talk to Jack. Step three: get Jack or Ray to knock Gavin back into his right mind, or get Michael and Ryan to kick the ass of whoever it is that's fucked up their friend this badly.

Gavin's whispering to himself again, in the same eldritch language as before, and doesn't seem inclined to stop anytime soon. So Geoff collects his thoughts and does his best to calm his racing heart. Then he interrupts. 

“Gavin, I don't know if it's actually you that's speaking to me, or if you're trapped away in your little wrinkly pea brain. But if you're in there somewhere, I hope you know that we're gonna help you. We're tracking down that bitch right now, and we could really use your help. Maybe we could, I dunno, join forces--”

“Now there's an amusing thought,” says Gavin coldly, “seeing as _you're_ the one serving her. Nice try, though.”

Geoff sighs. “Gavin, for the last time, it's me! I didn't die-- well, my Derse self did, but _I'm_ fine. They-- whatever they are-- they're trying to trick you. Please, Gavin--” He frantically searches his mind for something, anything, that'll convince Gavin that it's really him. “Remember all those Let's Builds? Plan G, and how we always knew it'd be Michael who pressed it first? Project Freelancer and Grif and Simmons and Caboose? Hell-- remember Happy Hour and my drunk Roomba face-off with-- with Griffon?” 

Something about the way Geoff's voice chokes at the end of the last sentence makes Gavin pause. The line goes mercifully static-free for a few moments. Geoff waits, his hands clenched into unconscious fists, heart fluttering in his throat.

“...Geoff?”

Never in his life has he been so grateful to hear his own name. The word is fragile, like a shard of spun glass, and he says nothing for fear of breaking anything.

And suddenly Gavin is-- just Gavin, with none of the pain or hatred from before; he's still terrified, Geoff can tell, but it's cringing and defensive this time, not hidden behind a wall of rage. That's okay. Geoff can handle scared. He's practically an expert by now. 

“Geoff, it can't be you-- I saw-- I saw you die, with Michael, I don't understand--”

“It's me, buddy. The one and only.”

“But...they told me...” Gavin trails off. “They told me not to trust anyone, that she has spies everywhere and that she could trick me because I wasn't smart.”

“Gavin, I promise, I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.” Gavin's voice sounds stronger now, but there's no guarantee how long this new clarity will stay. The last thing Geoff wants to do is traumatize him even more, but he has to know what happened, in case the-- grimdark? Is that what he called it? – comes back. “What else did they tell you?”

“They told me...they told me that I wasn't strong enough. That she could make me see things if I wasn't careful. And that I couldn't avenge you till I got stronger...”

Well, that clears a few things up, at least. Particularly as to why Gavin was so determined to exact revenge. But this kind of thing is over Geoff's head; why couldn't Ray or Jack be here instead? This is way more in their area. Without thinking, he says, offhand, “Well, they sound like real assholes, and you're a bit of a dumbass for believing them! So where are you?”

There's a pause, and the static slowly begins to seep back into his headphones. _What the?_ Quickly, he replays his last few words in his head.

_they sound like real assholes...you're a dumbass..._

_Oh, shit._

“I'm not dumb,” says Gavin quietly. The static grows louder.

_Save it, Ramsey, save it!_ “No, no, you're not, that's not what I meant--”

“Yes, you did! I've never been good enough for any of them, have I? Stupid Gavin, can't do anything right, he'll get us all killed one of these days.” Every bitter word makes Geoff flinch, horrified at all the secret thoughts spilling out of his friend's head. Has Gavin always been this angry at him? Or is this just the grimdark talking?

“Well, guess what,” Gavin continues, with a humorless chuckle, “I did. I know they're dead because of me. It's my fault. But you're the one who killed them.

“You killed my friends, and nowhere is safe for you now.”

Gavin laughs again, and this time Geoff hears something else laughing behind him. It's dissonant, discordant, and purely malicious. And then it _shrieks_ , ragged and echoey, as though tearing itself apart. 

It's like watching a movie, where the protagonist sees the horrible universe-eating monstrosity escaping, but can't do anything to stop it. Again, just like before, Geoff's brain feels like it's moving through molasses; some part of him is thinking frantically _do something, idiot,_ but the rest of him is too slow to react.

All he can do is plead again, helplessly. 

“Gavin, please! _Please_!”

And maybe it's his imagination, but he could swear there's just the tiniest break in the static and the whispering. Just enough to give him a little bit of hope. 

“Goodbye, Geoffrey.”

His headphones cut out, and Geoff is left with nothing but ringing ears and a racing heart.


	16. Ryan

_If Gus ever tells me again how much he wants to be in an earthquake, I'll smack him._

The whole cave is shaking itself to bits. Limestone, apparently, is not the most structurally sound of materials; as Ryan hauls ass towards the glow that vaguely resembles outdoor light, his head fills with images of sinkholes swallowing cars and houses that used to show up on the Tampa news. _Chemistry just saved my life, and now it's going to kill me._

The bomb was successful: it blew Ramoth open from the inside out. But apparently, limestone does not make for the sturdiest of caverns, and the blast managed to ruin what little structural integrity it had. Images of sinkholes swallowing cars and homes fill his head, the kind of pictures he used to see on the news back in Tampa. Everything is coming down around him now as he hauls ass towards what he hopes to God is the exit. 

Ramoth bellows in pain at the end of the cavern. It's still a pants-wettingly terrifying sound, even though she's buried under several tons of rock and stone. Ryan's running high on adrenaline, though, and the terror gets intermingled with the excitement of fleeing death-- so he bursts out laughing. _Keep it together, Haywood. What would Walter White do?_

A little voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his wife's tells him that Heisenberg probably isn't the best role model. But Ryan can't resist the urge to turn around and drop a quick Bond one-liner, hollering, “I am the one who knocks, bitch!”

**You insolent little--!**

Ryan winces at the fury in her tone, but almost instantly, Ramoth pulls herself together. **No. I have lost; I will go out with dignity. Well done, Mr. Haywood. I did not expect to be beaten in such a cunning fashion, and I must admire you for that.**

Wow. That was the last thing Ryan had expected to hear. He stops and looks back, unsure what to do. He should say something in return, something meaningful, but what? _Sorry for killing you by giving you the worst ulcer in history?_

But somehow, Ramoth seems to understand. **You did what you came here to do. Go-- your quest bed is within range, and I grant you permission to use it. Good luck. I am glad we were able to end this on a respectful note...**

Her mental voice flickers out. The ceiling above him rumbles, reminding him that there's no time to stand there and pay his respects. According to Ramoth, his quest bed is nearby-- does that mean he's leveled up enough to ascend? Hopefully he finds it before he gets crushed to death by his own dumb plan. He speeds up, dodging falling stalactites and the occasional squealing imp, sprinting down the cave corridor towards open air.

It turns out that the cavern is more of a maze than he thought. The light that he saw was just ambient light reflecting off the damp walls; by the time he reaches it, he's thoroughly lost, and half of the exits are blocked by landslides or falling rock. The air is thick with dust that coats his mouth and makes it hard to breathe. He turns a corner-- another, and another--

and entirely by chance, he turns one last corner that leads into a side room, and stumbles to a halt.

To his relief, this section of the cave seems to be unaffected by the explosion; it isn't shaking, and the walls-- smooth marble, rather than jagged limestone-- look untouched. The marble is a strange blue color, with flecks of silver in it, like stars in an ocean. The source of the light is easy to see. Small white lanterns float high above the structure that takes up most of the room: a huge stone slab, midnight blue and identical to Ray's, with the exception of the symbol carved in the middle. Instead of a heart, it's a series of slashes, all angled to form a circle. It's a nice shape, Ryan decides. Simple, not ostentatious. He doesn't have any idea what it means, though...unless--?

_Crack._

The sound is so quiet that Ryan doesn't pay it any attention, until he hears another one a few seconds later. He glances up to see a crack running across the ceiling, and another one criss-crossing the first. _Crack._ A third one joins them, making a spiderweb of cracks in the deep blue marble, sending dust fluttering to the ground. The room begins to shake ever so slightly.

In the space of a few seconds, Ryan's brain comes to several conclusions before his conscious mind finishes processing what just happened:

several thousand pounds of rock is about to come down on him;

several thousand pounds of rock is usually deadly;

he's gained enough experience to ascend;

his quest bed is only a few feet away; 

and,

several thousand pounds of rock is usually extremely painful.

_Wait, what the fuck?_ says his conscious mind.

_Shut the hell up and get on the quest bed,_ his subconscious mind orders-- which, again, sounds strangely like his wife.

The rest of his brain catches up with his subconscious' plan as Ryan throws himself onto the quest bed, narrowly avoiding a few pieces of falling marble. _Great plan, brain. And if it doesn't work? If I don't die immediately, and I'm trapped under tons of marble for hours? What then? You're not Ray, you won't have any kind of a backup plan..._

_Ray!_

Okay. If Ray really does have Professor X powers, then this might not be a totally hopeless situation. Granted, there's a small chance Ryan might _really_ die immediately when the ceiling collapses, but he really hates not having a backup plan.

“Ray,” he says out loud. “Ray, hey, your bomb worked! Can you hear me? I need help-- I'm on my quest bed, and the fucking Berlin Wall's about to come down on me, so I need you to--”

“Wait, _what?_ Slow down, man, I can't understand you—hey, how'd your dragon killing thing go? Is she dead yet? Oh, man, did our bomb work--”

_Damn it, when did Ray get so talkative?_ “There's no time to explain! Just-- shut up and put me to sleep!” 

A pause. Then: "I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was talking to Old Yeller," Ray says, deadpan. "Do you want us to bury you or cremate the body?" 

The spiderweb of cracks is slowly making its way down the walls, sending up little puffs of dust. Ryan talks as fast as he can. “Your bomb worked. The cave is coming down on me. I'm about to die a very painful death, and I don't know how quick it'll be before I ascend. I need you to either get rid of the pain, or knock me the fuck out. Otherwise I'm gonna have a really bad night. Can you do that?” 

Ray makes a strangled noise. “Jesus, Ryan, what the fuck? I've never-- I-- I dunno if I can do that, I've never tried-- wait, what do you mean you're _dying_?” 

Ryan scoots over on the quest bed to position himself under a relatively crack-less part of the ceiling. “Ray! Come on! Quest bed, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“...I don't exactly have time for a chat! Can you knock me out, or what?” 

All the easy confidence is gone from Ray's voice. It's still got that weird, resonant quality to it that Ryan noticed earlier, but more than ever, he sounds like the old Ray. “Ryan-- Christ, what if I fuck it up? What if you can't ascend when you're asleep, or something? I don't want to make it worse--" 

The floor is moving under Ryan, like an earthquake. The first crack in the ceiling splits apart, dumping dust, sand and slivers of marble inches from his face. “Ray, please-- I don't want to die like this-- you can do it--" 

“I don't—” 

“Just try, _please_!” 

With a creaking roar, the ceiling bursts apart. Pandemonium erupts. Ryan catches a glimpse of pale yellow moons in the background as the ocean stars begin to fall. Boulders slam into the stone slab around him-- 

and everything goes black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to a certain sci-fi author who recently passed away and wrote one of my all-time favorite series; i shamelessly stole a name from one of her characters. brownie points if you know the reference.
> 
> fun fact. a sinkhole just showed up on my campus here in tampa. so if you don't hear from me again for a while i'm probably twenty feet underground. (or possibly just procrastinating on new chapters.)


	17. Michael

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chiaroscuro: the contrast between light and dark.

Being Mogar is _exhausting_.

But for some reason, despite the past few hours he's spent hunting down monsters, he doesn't seem to need any kind of food or water. Which is great, because water, especially, seems to be a scarcity on all of their planets except Geoff's. Michael leans against the nearest solid object-- a diamond the size of a Volkswagen Beetle-- and catches his breath, wiping bits of black dust and sweat off his arms and forehead. _God, I'm disgusting. Forget drinking water, I just want to wash this crap off of me. How do people last longer than a day or two with this level of grime on their skin?_

The terrain around him has shifted from a rocky wasteland to sand. It's easier on his feet, even if it makes it harder to walk. It's a little rough on the eyes, too-- this sand is made of diamonds, rather than regular old granite and quartz, or whatever it is that makes up normal sand. Collectively, they throw off a blinding shimmer of light, making it difficult to look at it directly. The monsters seem to hate it as much as he does, so it makes for a good place to take a break.

Carefully, Michael lays his sword on the ground. Once it's secure and out of the way, he eases his way into a sitting position next to it, breathing hard. Food and water are no longer necessary, apparently, but his body still gets every bit as exhausted as it did back on Earth. His arms burn from swinging the sword constantly; his hands are chafed raw with blisters; his wrists twinge from the repeated twisting motions. He aches in places he didn't know he _could_ ache. Even his butt hurts from learning the hard way that it takes all of his core muscles to fully sever the head of an ogre. 

He squints, looking around for the glint of light on black diamond that might indicate another imp is coming to catch him off guard. Nothing. In fact, he can hardly make out the rocky diamond path he was trekking through just a few minutes ago. 

_Wait, why the fuck can't I see anything...?_

He looks up at the sun, or where the sun used to be. Now it's a thin fiery sliver quivering just above the horizon. As he stares, it slips beneath, leaving a pinkish glow in its wake.

_Whoops. So much for the Land of Sunsets._

He can't deny that the sudden darkness is making him a little nervous, though. Why would the sun choose now, of all times, to set completely? Maybe it's like Alaska. He vaguely recalls seeing something about the North Pole and the midnight sun on the Discovery Channel.

But something tells him this place isn't anything like that. Sure, it's possible that his planet just orbits a sun really, really slowly, and the sun just happened to set tonight. It's also possible that they'll find the missing Malaysian plane sitting on the tarmac at Kuala Lumpur, and Game of Thrones will end with Hodor becoming King of Westeros. 

In the meantime, Michael's not about to sit here and watch his planet plunge into total darkness. That's a great way to get killed.

So he picks up his sword and begins to walk across the desert, letting the last of the afterglow illuminate his path. It isn't so bad at first. His eyes adjust quickly, picking up even the faintest flecks of light, keeping him on a straight line. He's got no idea where he's going, but anywhere is better than the monster-infused path that led him here. He's too exhausted to handle any more fighting for a while. 

Step after step after step begins to blend together in his mind. Head bowed, ankles aching from the constant twist-and-slide motion of hiking through sand, Michael plods along. The darkness is absolute by now. It hurts his eyes to even try to make out anything within it. It swallows up the world around him until he barely remembers what it was like to see. Only the sound of his shoes scraping sand, and the sting of sweat in his blisters, reminds him that he still exists. 

Time passes, little by little. The clock on his tablet is stuck at 413:61, so it's more or less useless for telling time. He doesn't notice the faint shimmer in the sky until maybe fifteen minutes into his hike, and even then, the light isn't what makes him stop. It's the hissing, crackling noises that send him whirling around, sword raised.

Nothing's there-- nothing that he can see, at least. And then he realizes that he _can_ see. The darkness is lifting, little by little. 

Just as he raises his eyes to the sky, it bursts into flames. 

He's heard the phenomenon described countless times, but Michael's never been much of an outdoorsman, and living in New Jersey and then Austin hasn't exactly given him ample opportunity to see it in person. _It_ being the aurora borealis. Ribbons of light begin cascading across the heavens, sending glowing beams across the ground in front of him. They start off slow, speeding up over the course of the next few minutes, pushing aside the darkness and draping the sky in radiant curtains of pale green and pink. It's as if the sky is ablaze with some kind of heavenly power.

 _This is awesome. Literally. I am in so much awe right now, holy shit. How am I seeing this?_ He can't remember exactly what it is that causes it back on Earth-- sunspots, or solar flares, or something? _It's definitely got something to do with the sun, I'm pretty sure. But aren't they called the northern lights, too? I'm nowhere near the north, I don't think-- so why the hell can I see them?_

_...Who cares? I'm not in the dark anymore, and that's all that matters. It's like a sunset in the middle of the night. Suck it, creepy monsters!_

So Michael sets off again, letting the northern lights illuminate his path. He has no idea where he's going, but he doesn't really care. He's too tired to really care where he ends up. This game seems to treat his life-- and the rest of his friends' lives-- like a story; whenever it gets boring, something jump-starts the next plot development. 

By the time the next fifteen minutes pass by, though, Michael's starting to get antsy. The lights are pretty and all, but damn, this shit is getting boring.

“Hey, game,” he says out loud, and winces. His voice is as raspy as a sixty-year-old chain smoker. “If you could go ahead with that plot twist sometime in the next decade, that'd be great.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than his tablet chirps loudly in his pocket, making him jump. He'd almost forgotten the existence of other people in the presence of the all-consuming darkness. He fumbles it from his pocket, leaning on his sword to take some of the weight off his feet. 

\--redRoses [RR] began pestering electricAntagonist [EA] at 21:45--  
RR: MICHAEL ANSWER ME  
RR: MICHAEL  
EA: dude wtf im right here  
RR: well why weren't you answering when i was voice chatting with you!!

Oh. Right. Quickly, he reaches up to unmute his headphones.

“Ray? You there?”

“Thank fucking Christ. Where the hell have you been?”

“Jesus, sorry! I just wanted to wander around without you guys chattering away in the background, I didn't know it was a federal fucking offense.”

“Michael, you can't _do_ that in this game! How many times by now have we almost died? At least twice? You and Gavin both dropped off the face of the earth once already and it gave us a heart attack!”

Michael flinches. He doesn't usually give a shit when people yell at him, but it's ten times worse when the person yelling is Ray, who's normally so chill about everything. “Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think-- I thought it wouldn't be a big deal. What's going on?”

“I...I'm not really sure, to be honest.”

Ray tells him the whole story from the beginning, when Ryan first started hunting for his denizen, to the point where the ceiling began to come down on him. Throughout it all, his voice hardly shakes; if he wasn't one of Michael's best friends, Michael would never have known he was scared.

Michael whistles when Ray finishes. “Je _sus_. And you were just trying to knock him out?”

“I think so,” says Ray helplessly. “I tried to tell him that I didn't know what I was doing. But he didn't listen, and he was so scared, I had to do something--”

Michael sighs. Just when it seems like he can let his guard down for even a minute or two, this game makes him instantly regret it. And he's so goddamn tired he can hardly think straight...

He forces himself to sit up and focus. Ray needs his help. “Who was Ryan's server player when he joined? We should get a livestream up-- I think it was Jack, right? Hell, why didn't you go to him or Geoff in the first place, they're way better at this shit than I am-- or talk to your dumb sprite thing, is he still there with you?”

Ray doesn't say anything. Michael sighs to himself. _Way to shut him down, Michael. The poor guy's probably freaking out and just needed a friend. You're already tired, so it's gonna be way harder to hold on to your temper, but you gotta do it for your friends..._

“I'm sorry, Ray,” he says out loud. “I didn't mean it like that. I just think that we shouldn't freak out yet. Ryan's tough, and I think you would have sensed it if you'd done something wrong. Plus, aren't we supposed to die-- like, _really_ die-- in order to make it to god tier?”

Ray makes a noncommittal grunt. “Yeah. I just don't get how this works. I hate not knowing what I need to do, you know? It sucks, having to wait to be good at something.”

Michael snorts. “Welcome to the rest of the world. We have special jackets and we meet on Thursdays. But seriously-- if Ryan's really in a bad way, we can't just stand here and talk. We gotta get to him somehow, or get him to us.”

“What should we do, then?”

Michael thinks for a second. “Let's get that livestream up, I want a pair of eyes on Ryan as soon as possible. I still don't trust that man. If we let our guard down, he'll probably show up on a murderous rampage with some kind of evil dark powers he got from killing the dragon.”

That, at least, gets a chuckle out of Ray. “Okay. I can talk with my sprite, too, but it might take a few minutes. I don't think he's too happy with me right now.”

“Okay.” Michael pulls out his tablet so that he can message Jack while still listening to Ray. _I should probably say something nice for once in my life before he starts freaking out again. As much as he ever really freaks out, anyway._ “Hey, Ray. Ryan's going to be fine.”

Ray makes a noncommittal noise.

“Seriously. Think about it-- you've got those weird Professor X powers, you would have known if he was, you know, dead for good this time.”

Ray doesn't say anything. Michael gives up and turns his attention back to his tablet, only to promptly ruin his night vision thanks to the screen's glare. _Fuck. Thanks a lot, you piece of shit._

\-- electricAntagonist began pestering causticTranquility at 21:55 -–  
EA: jack we need your help  
EA: rays freaking out. ryan was trying to go god tier and you know do the thing where he dies like ray did  
EA: only i guess it wasnt gonna be as easy as rays and it was basically going to be super painful and awful and so he wanted to get ray to knock him out  
EA: so ray tried but he doesnt know if it worked and now he cant sense him anymore and hes flipping the fuck out  
EA: jack  
EA: are you there  
EA: god dammit of all the times to disappear on us  
EA: arent you supposed to be the reliable one around here  
\-- electricAntagonist ceased pestering causticTranquility at 21:57 –-

Michael turns off his tablet screen and feels around on his earbuds for the channel switch button. “Hey, Ray-- Jack's not picking up, so I'm going to mute you for a second so I can reach him.”

“Got it. I'm still trying to talk to my stupid sprite, anyway.”

He presses the button to switch it to Jack's channel. “Hey, Jack? Where are you?”

Silence. He can feel his temper beginning to fray, the strands of it grating like barbed wire against his nerves. He clenches his teeth, doing his best to avoid letting the tension bleed into his voice. “Jack. Answer your goddamn messages, fuckhead.”

Nothing. Michael resists the urge to drop-kick his headset into the sand. First Gavin, then Ryan, and now this. Where the fuck is Jack? Why the hell did everyone suddenly feel the need to vanish into thin air, leaving Michael to deal with the fallout? 

He closes the chat window and selects Ryan's name, jabbing his finger angrily at the “Stream” option. The app hangs for a few seconds, thinking about it, and then promptly crashes to his home screen. 

Swallowing his anger, Michael summons the last few dregs of his patience to open the app again. This time, when he brings up Ryan's chat log and selects “Stream”, it opens a new window, and for a few seconds, it seems to be working--

-– until his screen flickers, and suddenly he's staring at his tablet's background image of Fluttershy prancing in a field.

And just like that, his temper snaps.

“God dammit to _fucking hell!_ ” he bellows at the top of his lungs, hearing his voice echoing across the desert wasteland in the most satisfying way. “Where in the _everloving fuck_ did everyone go? And why won't this STUPID APP WORK, you _useless dime-store cunt-fucking electronic piece of shit_ \-- why won't you connect to the livestream like you're supposed to, you retarded dick-sucking pile of--”

The rage is so thick and cloying that he can hardly see. He keeps going for a minute or two, unloading all of the frustration and anger that's been building up over the course of the night. It gets to the point where he trips over his own words with the force of his fury, and with an unintelligible yell, he hurls his tablet across the sand. As if to piss him off even more, it doesn't even bounce. Instead, it just sinks into the dust. 

Abruptly, the anger drains away. He stands there, breathing hard, feeling both drained and slightly embarrassed, the way he often does whenever he works himself up into one of his rages. After taking a moment to collect himself, he plucks his iPad out of the sand. The case is covered in flecks of diamond; he makes a face and blows the worst of it off. 

When he turns the screen back on, there's a message this time, blinking in cheerful red letters. 

**Subject is out of ambit, please try again later.**

Michael growls, feeling the irritation boiling up all over again. He whacks the tablet against his thigh in an attempt to knock some of the dust out. Percussive maintenance hardly ever solves anything, but it's better than throwing it away again. He wipes the screen off on his jeans, then hits it again. 

He's about to give up, to pick up his sword and keep walking, when the screen flickers again. Suddenly, there it is: the Land of Moons and Pines, a birds'-eye view. _About fucking time!_

He examines the planet briefly, noting the small dark smudge in the southeast corner. He double-taps it with his finger, not entirely sure what to expect, and nearly drops the phone when it zooms in abruptly to a pixelated image of a pile of rocks-- all that's left of the lair of Ryan's denizen. _That must be where Ray's bomb went off. Jesus, it looks like an asteroid collided with the whole planet...are the chemicals in this universe more potent or something?_

He switches his headset back to Ray's channel. “Hey, Ray. I got it!”

“You found Jack? What'd he say?”

“No, not Jack-- I got the livestream up--”

But even as he stares at his screen, watching the stars fade in the sky of his friend's planet, he becomes aware of something else happening. 

Ryan's land is starting to glow, ever so slightly. And not from the eponymous moons, either-- the light is a deep shade of blue, so dark that it's almost shadow, a shade of blue that Michael's only ever seen in pictures of deep oceanic trenches. The light is coming from the hole in Ryan's planet, sending rays streaking across the forests in lustrous bursts. 

Without warning, a column of light shoots straight across the sky, drowning out the soft radiance of the aurora. Michael drops the shitty resolution of his tablet screen in favor of watching the real thing revolving slowly in the sky above him. He can already tell that this particular event won't be nearly as flashy as Ray's; just like Ryan, it's shrouded in shadow and subtlety. 

But that doesn't make it any less exciting. Michael shivers as goosebumps make their way up his spine. “Ray?” he says, in as calm a voice as he can muster.

Ray is instantly attentive, possibly because Michael has never sounded this calm before in his life. “Yeah?”

“Take a look at this link I'm sending you. You're not gonna want to miss it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still hanging out over at [digital-waterfall](digital-waterfall.tumblr.com). I don't bite. And I've had all my shots. Ask questions! Please!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left comments or sent me messages...you have no idea how much you make my day.


	18. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope meets darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the delay. This fic is definitely not discontinued! It's not even on hiatus. I've been dealing with final projects and exams, but now that I'm home for the holidays I've got the time (and energy) to write again!

_I don't know whether to laugh or give up._

Jack's found his quest bed, all right. This game has a sense of humor, apparently, and it knows him as well as his friends do. His bed is in a little wooden house, with a stone roof and an iron door. Just like the kind he builds in Minecraft all the time. 

The house itself isn't that much to look at. The quest bed is the only thing occupying it, aside from glass windows and a simple red woolen carpet. It's tasteful— someone like Griffon or Arryn would probably call it austere-- and it's not gaudy, which is fine by Jack. A couple of bats dangle from the wooden beams over the threshold, swaying gently in the breeze. Yellow isn't really his favorite color, but at least this bed is a decent shade: more muted, less vivid and sickly, with a curly white symbol carved into the center. It doesn't really look much like a bed, though, except for the shape.

_Geoff was so sure he was going to beat me. That asshole._ Grinning, Jack sits down on the edge of the bed and puts his headphones on. “Hey, Geoff. Get this.”

There's no response. Weird. He checks to make sure the volume's turned all the way up, and then waits for a few seconds. Maybe Geoff turned his headset off for some reason? “Geoff? You there?”

Nothing. Jack frowns and pulls out his phone. _I swear, sometimes I'd have an easier time talking to Joe the Cat. I don't know how Griffon does it. At least Joe wouldn't be a sore loser. Although I think I'd prefer a hairball-free Geoff..._

As he waits for Geoff to pick up, his thoughts turn, slowly and painfully, to Caiti. He's tried to avoid thinking about her up until now, knowing that it's useless to dwell on it-- he's stuck here until they finish the game. But thinking about Griffon had made him think about his own wife. He chews his lip while waiting for Geoff's response. Caiti's safe, probably-- she was out of town when the meteors struck, so she had almost certainly survived. He hopes.

_She survived, but did anyone else?_ a little voice in the back of his head chimes in. _How many did you and the others destroy with your stupid game?_

Fortunately, before his brain can continue down that depressing route, Geoff picks up the phone. “Jack! Jesus dicks, am I ever glad to hear your voice.”

“Wait, what happened? I was just about to--”

“Shut up, dude. It's Gavin.”

“ _Gavin??_ Where the hell has he b--”

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

Something in Geoff's voice tells Jack that there might not be a whole lot of time for the long version. “Uh. Short version, I guess.”

“Gavin thinks me and Michael are dead and that the crazy bitch Michael saw is trying to kill us. He thought I was one of the Black Queen's soldiers trying to trick him into surrendering. Also, he's possessed, and I think he wants to kill me.”

“...Okay, I think I'm gonna need the long version.”

“There really isn't much more to it than that. I thought he was high or something at first, but man, if you'd heard what he sounded like-- there's no way. Something's freaked him out to the point that he can't even recognize me.” 

Jack frowns. “You really weren't able to get through to him at all? He wasn't just-- you know, traumatized from something else?”

“...No. It's real. There's no way...Jack, I couldn't even _recognize_ him, by the end of it.” Geoff's voice cracks at recognize him, and Jack's stomach twists at that familiar sensation of being on the other end of the line, helpless, while his friends are in pain. 

“You guys have seen some serious shit in this game,” he says gently. He doesn't really know how to handle this, any more than he did last time the game fucked them over, but staying calm definitely seems to help. “It might just be left over from that. When Michael was knocked out last time, he came back pretty messed up, too. Who knows what Gavin saw while he was out?”

“You know, I hoped that's all it was, at first,” says Geoff. “I didn't know what else it would be. But then Ryan told me about something called the horrorterrors--”

“The _what?_ ”

“That's what I said. He told me that his denizen said the horrorterrors 'took' Gavin, and then Gavin said a whole lot of stuff about 'them' teaching him and whispering to him. Creep factor ten. Think of every you've ever played-- Silent Hill, Diablo, the fuckin' Reapers from Mass Effect-- it was just like that, and I wasn't even seeing him in person.”

Jack shudders. “So...what? If you really think he's possessed by these things, how are we supposed to get him free?”

“...Yeah, that's what I was hoping you could tell me. You're a Seer or whatever, right? Can't you, like, see into his brain or something, and get him back?”

Just for the hell of it, Jack takes a second to try. Instead of waiting for the weird tickle in the back of his brain to push him in a certain direction, he feels around for it, actively trying to find an answer. _I'm glad no one's around to see my face right now, I probably look like I'm constipated._ “No. I wish it was that easy. It's more of a hunch than anything else. Like an instinct. It doesn't really work on command.”

“Shit. I wonder if Ray could do something to help. Maybe you have to go god-tier first...”

Oh, _hell_ yes, he'd almost forgotten. This is gonna be good, and maybe it'll get Geoff's mind off of Gavin. 

“Hey Geoff...about that whole god-tier thing...do you think I look good in yellow?”

“Huh?”

_Wait for it...wait for it..._

The penny drops. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me. _Seriously?!_ ”

Jack can't help but grin. “Can you send me a picture of your face right now? I want to document the exact moment you realized that I beat you for once. How does it feel? Is your moustache doing the little droopy thing it does when Griffon kicks your ass?”

In the silence, he can hear Geoff fighting the urge to whine and complain. The gears spinning in his head are almost audible, and Jack waits to see what will win: Geoff's mature, paternal side-- what little there is-- or his competitive streak that's longer than his sleeve tattoos. 

To absolutely nobody's surprise, the latter wins. “Oh, come on! That's bullshit! I had a bunch of trees in my way, and all these frogs wouldn't leave me alone--”

“Oh, you had _trees?_ ” Jack has to laugh. “Please. I had _lava_ , and bats! It doesn't get much harder than that! Do you want me to throw some sharks in the mix-- maybe a couple of bears? Face it, Geoff, I won.”

“I hope your bed has spiders in it,” Geoff mutters.

Jack just smirks. For a few peaceful moments, he lets go of the pain of leaving Caiti behind, and the fear of whatever it is that's wrong with Gavin. He isn't usually the competitive sort-- he usually wins the Tower of Pimps through hard work and steady effort, but leaves being the King to Ryan and Geoff. It does get his mind off of the concerns of the real world for a little while, though.

And then it all comes crashing down again as Geoff says, “So...dying, huh?”

Yeah. That's a thing, isn't it. He doesn't really know what to say in response, so he settles for scratching his chin and making a noncommittal noise.

“Cheer up,” says Geoff, “it'll be over before you know it. Sure seemed like that for Ray, anyway. They say dying doesn't hurt, you know...”

Since Geoff isn't physically there, Jack settles for giving the wall a bemused look instead. “Really? A dead person told you that, then? Please, elaborate.”

“Damn, Jack, you get sarcastic when you're nervous. How have I never noticed that before?”

“I'm about to _die_ , asshole! What the hell do you expect? Kittens and unicorns?”

Geoff sighs. “Look. I can tell you for a fact that dying doesn't hurt, because I've done it myself. Okay?”

Oops. “Oh.”

“I mean, I don't know what it's like in real life, as opposed to dreams, but-- I didn't feel anything. And that whole episode was...violent. You heard about it already, so. Yeah. Lots of blood. I can't speak for Michael, or-- or Gavin. But I really do think you'll be numb for most of it.”

“I guess it depends on how I go, too.” Jack glances around, trying not to think too hard about exactly what it is that he's looking for. “Maybe I can do it easy, like Ray. Are bats poisonous?”

“I don't think so. Maybe your kind are, but good luck catching one. I don't think bats like to be caught.”

“Great. Let me just get up and find something to kill myself with that's at least relatively painless. Or do you feel like being helpful for once?”

He can almost hear Geoff rolling his eyes. “Fine. Send me a picture of the place, maybe we can think of something together.”

_I can't believe I'm doing this_. Jack digs his phone out of his pocket and sets it on Panorama, so he can get a decent photo to send to Geoff. _What if this doesn't work? What if I don't come back at all? What if--_

Huh. That's weird. His phone's acting up again: it's gone all black and smokey, and it won't load any apps. The only way he knows it's turned on is that he can barely see the little battery icon in the top right, still reading 79%, the same level it was at when he first joined the game. 

“Jack? You still there?”

“Yeah-- it's my phone, it's being a pain in the ass.”

“What's up?”

“The screen's all fucked up, it's dark and--” He peers at it. “Okay, that's weird. It looks just like it did when I was trying to get through to Gavin earlier, but I'm not...I don't have his livestream up or anything, I was just trying to get my camera open...”

He trails off, utilizing the age-old repair method of shaking his phone in frustration. Nothing. Then he realizes Geoff's been silent for an awfully long time. “Geoff?”

There's a pause, and then: “No,” Geoff whispers, “no, oh fuck, no...”  
“Geoff? What's going on?”

Nothing.

What the hell is he doing? “Geoff...?”

When Geoff speaks again, all the humor is gone. His voice is more serious than Jack has ever heard it. “Jack. I think Gavin is in there with you. Or he's on his way.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?”

“That black smoke-- we saw it when we were trying to find him, earlier, and I just saw it a little while ago, when I was talking with him. I don't know what it is, but I'll bet a million bucks that it's got something to do with those horrorterrors. He's nearby, and he's pissed, and you _can't reason with him_ , Jack. Just get away from him until I figure out some distraction.”

“Get _away?_ There's nowhere for me to go, Geoff! I'm in a little house surrounded by lava! How am I supposed to avoid him?”

“Now why would you want to avoid me, Jack?”

The voice is unmistakeable. Slowly, carefully, Jack turns around.

He hardly recognizes the figure behind him. Its skin is a sickly shade of gray, with hair and eyes that glow an opaque white. Its clothes are the same color as its skin, only darker, and it's floating a few feet off the ground as if everything's perfectly normal.

More terrifying than the skin or the eyes, though, is its veil of darkness. They're shadows, yet somehow they're so thick as to be almost solid, an optical illusion that Jack can't take his eyes off of. It's the same smoky stuff that showed up in his phone earlier, but now it's oozing around Gavin like a living cloak.

He watches, paralyzed, as the thing that used to be his friend drifts slowly towards him.

“I thought you wanted to see me,” Not-Gavin says sadly. “I've been looking all over for you, Jack. All over the _universe_. I spoke with Geoff already, but he's fast. Not too fast for _me_ \-- but he's had a bit of a rough time. So I thought I'd give him a break.”

Jack still can't find his tongue, but his feet finally decide to respond. He stumbles backwards, away from Gavin, who just smiles. 

_Oh God, that's the most terrifying thing I've ever seen._

“Not much room in here for you to run away,” Gavin says cheerfully. “You've made it very convenient for me. At least, that's assuming that this place is even real. I have no idea what kind of tricks you lot can play, but I'm not stupid enough to trust you.”

Geoff's yelling something in his headset, his voice echoing as if it's from miles away, but Jack hardly notices. He takes a few more awkward steps back, promptly catches his foot on the uneven dirt surface of the ground, and trips. He windmills his arms frantically to steady himself, every muscle in his body twisting to regain his balance, but it's too late. He lands ass-first on the ground, wincing, and Gavin descends.

“ _You killed them_ ,” it hisses, and now its face really _is_ unrecognizable, a mask of rage and fear and something else that Jack can't quite pinpoint. “You murdered my friends, you son of a bitch, and now I'm here to make you _pay_.”

It's like every shitty scary movie he's ever seen, where the main character trips and, instead of spending a few extra seconds to get back up and ready to fight, they just scramble backwards, away from the monster. His brain and body refuse to work together, and in a haze of terror and confusion, all he can do is desperately propel himself backwards towards his quest bed. _If he kills me on that, I'm home free--_

“And just where do you think you're going?”

He glances up just in time to see Gavin vanish. He has just enough time to think _what the fuck_? before something grabs the back of his skull and slams the side of his head into the ground.


	19. Jack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets got.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: descriptions of serious injury and choking.

Everything flashes, white, then gray; when Jack comes to a few seconds later, he screams before his mind has a chance to register the pain. His glasses slide off the side of his face. Then Gavin picks him up by the scruff of the neck and hurls him bodily into the door of the little wooden house, which bursts open. Jack lands, limp, on the stone floor.

He manages to stay awake this time, and immediately regrets not passing out when he had the chance. He gags, tasting blood, as pinpricks of agonizing light flicker around his closed lids. The whole right side of his face is swollen and throbbing in time with his pulse. He wants to reach up and assess the damage, but knows that it'll be even more painful to touch any part of his face right now, and settles for feeling around for his glasses. Just as he manages to get the tiniest bit of control over the pain, he feels something grab him again. This time, it smashes the other side of his face into the wall. 

He comes to this time with Geoff yelling something unintelligible into his earpiece. He tries to listen, but someone's cursing too loudly for him to hear Geoff at all. It takes Jack a moment to realize that it's him making that noise-- his mouth doesn't seem to want to obey him, and he's swearing a blue streak worthy of Michael on a bad day. Everything smells and tastes of blood. It takes every ounce of strength he has left not to break down whimpering, but he can't afford to worry Geoff any further.

Something wells up in his mouth. He spits a red glob at Gavin's feet, along with something white and solid that he doesn't really want to examine in detail.

Gavin makes a disgusted noise. “Oh please, Jack. Have a little dignity.”

Jack doesn't look up. _Christ. This hurts. Gotta get out of here-- gotta make it back to the bed-- where's Geoff--_

“Are you listening?”

“Can't say that I am,” Jack says thickly. “Little busy.” _I think I still have all my teeth...but my beard's all bloody...Gus is gonna kill me if I show up on the podcast missing a tooth, and he's always hated my beard..._

“Well, _that's_ just rude.”

This time, the thing that curls around his throat is nothing like a human hand. It makes his whole neck go cold and prickly and numb. Like a misbehaving puppy, he's lifted four feet into the air, legs kicking frantically. It holds him loosely in place as Gavin turns below to face him. His smile is more like a grimace. 

“I've learned some things since we last talked, Jack.”

The numb thing-- whatever it is-- tightens its grip, cutting off Jack's circulation.

“Made some new friends.”

Gavin floats a little higher, meeting Jack's gaze. His eyes are utterly white and devoid of pupils. Then his shadow comes into view, and finally Jack sees what it is that's grabbed his neck.

Coils of shadow are oozing down Gavin's arms, seething around him, making Jack feel sick in a way that has nothing to do with the pain. He can see them oozing under Gavin's skin, making it an eerie shade of gray. They don't seem entirely solid, so it doesn't really make sense how this one can put so much pressure on his neck, but Jack's not about to start questioning the physical properties of the horrorterrors.

He hardly has a chance to think about it, anyway. The pain in his throat is almost as bad as the pain in his face, but both of them are outmatched by his increasingly desperate need for oxygen. Everything in Jack's world narrows down to his lungs and the air outside them. Nothing is as important as getting his lungs to expand. When the shadow tightens even further, the world starts to go red around the edges. He's choking-- gasping for air-- Gavin laughs, high-pitched and echoey, drowning out Geoff's terrified cries--

– and something crashes through the roof, landing on top of Gavin in a cloud of rust-colored brick dust. The shadows release Jack's throat and he collapses to the ground, limp, sucking sweet air into his bruised and aching throat. It hurts to breathe, but the relief is worth it. Once he gets his breathing back to normal, he looks up, wincing at the pain in his face.

Now it's Gavin's turn to be pinned by the throat. And yeah, Jack knows it's not really Gavin dangling there, that his friend left the building a long time ago, but he can't help feeling a little smug at not-Gavin's pain. _Payback's a bitch, isn't it, you little shit?_

Trying to ignore the throbbing in his temples and his trachea, he takes a good look at his savior-- who looks familiar somehow, despite his bizarre navy blue outfit that includes a flowing hood ruffling in an unseen breeze. The effect is dampened slightly by the fact that the back of his cape is covered in dust and dirt, and the ground around him is littered with pieces of the ceiling. Nonetheless, he looks like he belongs in a theater somewhere, not stuck here saving Jack's sorry ass. 

“Gavin. Quit screwing around. You know we're not your enemy.”

_Oh thank Christ._ Jack would know that voice anywhere. It's nearly identical to his own. The cavalry has finally arrived, in the form of his crazy friend-- who, for once, has been out-crazied by Gavin Free of all people.

He can't see Gavin's face, but Jack can feel his anger from fifteen feet away. “Finally got it, eh, Rye-bread? How's it feel, being god-tier? Did you strike a deal with that Derse bitch so you could finally have all the power you want?”

“That's a flimsy fucking excuse and you know it,” Ryan growls. “Stop lying to yourself. You don't believe that we're secretly Derse agents. You're smarter than that.”

Very carefully, very quietly, Jack pushes himself up off the ground, careful to shield himself behind Ryan, keeping out of Gavin's field of view.

Gavin twists and writhes in Ryan's grip, shadows sparking and spitting furiously, but Ryan's arms hardly even twitch. _Damn. Ryan got ripped as fuck. The fans are gonna love his arms even more now...and I should probably stop the two of them before someone gets hurt. But if I get in the way, that someone is probably gonna be me._

“Get off of me, you freak,” Gavin hisses. “I was in the middle of something before you interrupted.”

“Not until you tell me what you want with Gavin...and Gavin, you tell me why you listened to them in the first place.”

In response, Gavin's foot swings out, so fast it's a blur, and connects straight into the front of Ryan's knee. Jack winces, waiting for the _crack_ of a shattered kneecap--

It doesn't come. Instead, it goes straight through Ryan's shin with no resistance. Gavin might as well have been kicking air. He tries it again, with his other foot, to no effect. 

Jack feels his mouth fall open. Everything goes still for a few seconds. 

“Oh,” says Gavin softly, “of course. Void.”

“Nice try,” Ryan tells him. “You could have a lot of fun trying to kill me. I'd suggest you save your energy, though. Now...where were we?”

Gavin snarls something incomprehensible. Ryan sighs. “Look. I know what this is. You wanted power, Gav-- that's all. You were angry and desperate, and they took advantage of that. But please, quit pretending like you honestly think we're working with the Black Queen. Don't insult our intelligence.”

“And what makes you think you have the right to tell me how to feel?”

Jack inches his hand towards his pocket, hoping against hope that his phone isn't smashed from the battle. If he can just quietly text Geoff while they're both distracted--

“Because _I_ would've listened to them, too!” Ryan cries.

Jack freezes with his hand in his pocket. _The hell?_

“If someone was threatening my family, and killing my friends? I would do _anything_ to protect them. And if someone said they could be saved, I'd do whatever they asked of me. I'd follow them to the ends of the fucking planet. I'd stop at _nothing_. I've heard their whispers here, when I was scared and alone. And honestly, I'm not sure if I could have stood up to them, either-- even if they hadn't offered to help. These things get into your head, Gavin. They give you all the power you ever wanted, and all they ask in return is your blood and humanity.”

By this point, Gavin's stopped struggling. His voice is muffled when he speaks again. “How do you know?”

“I'm the Mad King, remember?” Ryan chuckles dryly. “Also-- it kind of goes along with being an Heir of Void. The horrorterrors are...fond..of my aspect.”

“Oh.” Something in Gavin deflates a little. The shadows aren't going away anytime soon, but they're a little less intense now. Ryan can hold him without visibly straining anymore, so Jack takes the opportunity to pull out his phone and text Geoff as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.

\-- causticTranquility began pestering pyrotechnicArchitect at 22:30 –-

CT: Ryan's got him.  
CT: Saved my ass. Not sure what plan is.  
CT: Am waiting.  
PA: waiting??? what the hell do you mean, waiting?  
PA: hold up, what do you mean ryan's got him?  
CT: He went god tier. They're having a chat atm.  
PA: great, so get the fuck out! ryan can't die now, he'll be fine!  
CT: Nowhere 2 go. Quest bed's nearby. Gavin'll get me if I try 2 run.  
CT: Think situation under control for now.  
PA: what's ryan's aspect?  
CT: Void  
CT: Also he & Gavin

One minute, he's typing frantically-- the next, his phone is flying out of his hands. Jack looks up just in time to see Gavin vanish in front of Ryan, who's left awkwardly clutching a handful of air. 

It all happens so fast that Jack hardly registers what's going on until something terribly, terribly cold punches straight through his chest.

Everything slows down to a crawl. Gavin's laughter is so out-of-control, it's almost hysterical. Jack hardly feels it when he collapses to the ground; everything's gone numb except for the horrible sense of emptiness in his chest and the sensation of blood pooling under him. _Hey, look. Shock. Never realized how much I missed my sternum and my stomach till they were gone..._

In the distance he sees Ryan whirl around, as if through water. His face is so contorted with rage that it hurts Jack worse than the hole in his abdomen, because Ryan is the friendliest guy he's ever known, a goddamn teddy bear, and he should _not_ have to suffer like this. Ryan launches himself at Gavin, and because of the weird Jell-O time effect from the shock, Jack can see everything. 

His arm comes down--

He catches hold of Gavin's shoulders and gives him a hard shove--

and Gavin winks out of existence entirely.

Something inside of Jack loosens up, now that the threat is gone. Time speeds up again, while his vision grows vaguely hazy as he instinctively relaxes. Ryan leans over him, face pale, hands pressing gently at the gaping hole in Jack's chest. _Now_ it starts to hurt. He coughs, wincing. “Ouch, Ryan.”

“Fuck, Jack, I'm sorry-- I couldn't stop him, he was so much faster than I thought--”

“S'okay--”

“I gotta put pressure on it-- it's gonna hurt like a bitch, I'm sorry-- you're gonna be fine, I'll get you out of here...”

Something presses firmly and painfully down on his chest. Jack yelps. “Christ! Ryan-- come on, it's too late--”

“No!”

“Go find Gavin. What'd you even do to him, anyway?”

“Sent him away.” Ryan bears down, harder. Pain flares up in Jack's midsection, and he bites back a scream. “I gotta stop the bleeding--”

“Ryan, listen to me, you stupid...” It's getting harder to force his lips to move, but Jack will be damned if he's gonna go down in history as being killed by _Gavin_. “Quest bed. In that house.” He coughs, ignoring the flecks of blood that come out. “Put me there. Don't...don't wanna die here.”

The last thing he feels before giving up the fight entirely is the sensation of warm hands supporting his back, lifting him gently up off the ground. He lets out one last breath--

–- and everything fades away.


	20. The Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope rises again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: the usual. Blood, death, and all the emotions that go along with it.

It's one thing to hear Ray breathing his last over a microphone, and seeing his body on a screen. It's a whole different ball game to physically cradle a dying human. Holding Jack in his arms feels...weird. Ryan has picked up unconscious people before-- mostly friends who've had a little too much to drink—but this is different. It weighs him down, despite his newfound god-tier strength. He tries to imagine that he's back in college, hauling another one of his buddies back to their dorm so they can recover, but reality will not be denied.

Without warning, he feels incredibly nauseous. If he doesn't do something soon, he's going to be holding a dead body, and that is not a sensation he ever wants to feel. Something flutters against his cheek. He jumps, flattening himself against the wall without thinking, and swears when he feels himself falling through the brick. When he pulls himself back out, he sees that it's just a tiny pink-and-yellow moth, fluttering towards the quest bed. More begin streaming through the hole in the ceiling, settling themselves on Jack's body. Part of Ryan wants to wait nearby, so that he can see the transformation up close. It seems to take an astronomical amount of energy, and he _really_ wants to know exactly how the whole dead-to-alive thing works. He refuses to admit that it's just magic. That's far too easy of an explanation. Where the hell is it getting the energy from? And how is it converting dead flesh into living tissue?

A soft glow begins to emanate from the bed, casting shadows on the walls, and the hair on Ryan's arms begins to stand up. Then he remembers what the expenditure of large amounts of energy tends to do to organic material that stands in its way. Memories flit through his mind of grainy black-and-white footage watched during high school physics classes, of explosions and shock waves and scorch marks in the earth. And while he hadn't been on the Land of Roses and Waterfalls during Ray's ascension, it had been clear from the livestream that there were plenty of fireworks.

_I think I'd prefer to keep my internal organs where they are..._

He floats up and out, dodging the shards of broken roof tiles that line the hole he plunged through earlier, until he's about fifty feet away from the opening. _There. Cleared the splash zone. Now what?_

He sits down in mid-air, crossing his legs and fiddling with the end of his cape. A thought crawls into his mind: what if it doesn't work? What if, by getting the horrorterrors involved, Gavin somehow negated the entire process? Sure, it worked for Ray and Ryan, but theirs were easy deaths, relatively speaking, and they both died on their quest beds. What if Ryan's screwed everything up by moving Jack?

 _No. Stop that. We are not doing the_ what if _thing. His body's glowing, that's the first step, it'll be fine--_

Sure enough, he can see it beginning. Dozens of moths are rising out of the hole in the roof, wings straining, clutching Jack's body in their delicate legs. They come to a rest about twenty feet above the roof, the glow becoming stronger and stronger. The silence presses down around him; the whole universe seems to bend inwards, straining, listening...

* * * * *  
\-- pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] began pestering electricAntagonist [EA] at 22:30 –  
PA: turn to jack’s livestream.  
EA: wait what  
EA: ray and i just got done watching ryan ascend and we couldn’t see anything and then he vanished and ray’s freaking out again  
EA: so what the hell is going on  
PA: gavin killed jack. now jack’s ascending cause ryan saved him. no time to explain anything else. EA: what the FUCK  
PA: i’ll get everyone to join the group chat in a sec. just hang on.  
EA: GEOFF GET BACK HERE  
\--pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] ceased pestering electricAntagonist [EA] at 22:31—

* * * * *

 _He made it,_ Geoff thinks, looking up at the sky. _He actually made it. Jesus, Mary and Joseph the carpenter, he's going to be okay._

It's an incredible relief to have something good happening at last, after all the stress of the last few hours. He feels himself relaxing, just a little, and sits back to watch the show. The Land of Lava and Bells is suffused with white smoke, lit up from the inside like a flame. Just like Ray's ascension, columns of light burst into the heavens; it turns the planet into a star, shining so brightly that Geoff has to look away, rubbing his eyes.

When he looks back, the light has died down a little. It might just be his imagination-- it's difficult to see much detail from his position on another planet-- but it looks like the smoke is forming some kind of pattern. A strange, pale yellow series of symmetrical curlicues hovers in the clouds over Jack's planet, growing larger and larger until it dissipates altogether.

Without warning, the light vanishes, leaving black specks dancing in his vision. He blinks a few times and lets out a long breath. When it's clear that no more fireworks are forthcoming, he switches his mic to Jack's channel.

“Jack?” he says cautiously.

There's a pause, and then--

“Suck it, Geoff.”

Jack's voice has that same weird timbre that Ray's voice developed, but it hasn't lost its old cheerful lilt. Geoff doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He settles on the former, because he's a Ramsey, dammit, and like hell he's going to cry. Especially when Jack can hear him.

Everything's going to be okay.

* * * * *  
Gavin is really getting tired of waking up with no memory and a pounding headache.

Granted, it's kind of an occupational hazard of being possessed by malevolent demons. And he's growing stronger by the minute, so at least this time, the amnesia doesn't linger as long. The horrorterrors waste no time in replaying the events that preceded the blackout.

 _Ryan._ That smug, self-satisfied son of a bitch. He's ruined everything. They'd never expected him to survive the cave-in. But they should have-- with his quick thinking and penchant for loopholes, it shouldn't have come as a surprise at all that he, of all people, would still be alive. Gavin's fists clench in a black rage that's both his own, and someone else's--

_\--HOW--_

_\--the plan, the plan--_

_\--he's ruined EVERYTHING--_

_\--we almost had them, almost stopped them all--_

Gavin shakes his head to clear it, and looks around. He's not sure exactly how much control Ryan has over his new powers, but there's a chance he didn't know what he was doing. If that's the case, then Gavin still has the element of surprise.

And, most importantly, he's gained the upper hand, because now he's exactly where he wants to be: a scant few hundred miles from his planet. Where, somewhere deep within, is a door. A door that opens to the first steps of Plan B.

 _Plan G_ , whispers a tiny voice in the back of his mind, but he hardly registers it. _Die,_ says a different voice. A louder, more persuasive one. _Die, and be reborn as a god._

Gavin drifts.

In the distance, a gold star twinkles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the length of this one. The next one will be longer, and it will be posted sooner!
> 
> This whole fic is out of control. We are working towards something resembling an ending, though, I swear.


	21. The Team, pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation is had.
> 
> If you don't remember who's who, or can't keep their pesterchum handles straight (and I don't blame you), [here's a guide](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/post/92002748704/heres-a-quick-guide-to-the-various-pesterchum) that I made a little while ago.

–- pyrotechnicArchitect [PA] has opened group memo RAINBOW RUMPUS PARTY TOWN --  
–- electricAntagonist has joined the memo! –-  
–- paternalRogue has joined the memo! –-  
–- causticTranquility has joined the memo! –-  
–- redRoses has joined the memo! –-

PR: Nice name.  
PA: thanks. it seemed appropriate for some reason.  
EA: is there some reason were chatting on this bullshit app instead of the mic  
EA: or in jack and ray and ryans case creepy disembodied voices in our heads  
PA: because i want raysprite to be in here. i've got some questions for that little ghosty prick.  
RR: wait, hang on. before we begin, someone tell me what the fuck just happened. Why did  
CT: short version: gavin came back and he's completely insane. he's after all of us.  
EA: what  
PA: sigh.  
PR: Look, Michael, you and Ray are gonna need the long version on this one. So just leave it at that for now, and we'll fill you in later.  
EA: what  
EA: ok fine but you better fucking explain what you mean by gavin going crazy  
PA: ray, get your sprite in here, will you?  
RR: i'll try. he's been kind of an asshole lately. hang on.

–- Raysprite [RAYSPRITE] has joined the memo! –-

EA: all right, asshole. talk to us. what the hell are we supposed to do now.  
RAYSPRITE: well this is a fine kettle of go fuck yourself  
EA: look at this place!!  
EA: three of us just died, two of us are still stuck on our planets because our quest beds refuse to show up, one's gone crazy or something??  
EA: i don't know about the rest of you but i just want to rescue gavin and go home  
PA: same. i'm tired of watching my friends die.  
RAYSPRITE: well imo you all seem to be doing ok so far  
RAYSPRITE: i mean youve died but you died to reach god tier. which means half of you have ascended.  
RAYSPRITE: thats pretty fucking impressive that youre all still alive so far  
RAYSPRITE: i thought at least a third of you would be gone by now  
PR: Wow. Don't sugar-coat it or anything.  
EA: what about gavin?  
RAYSPRITE: look your situation seems pretty simple to me  
RAYSPRITE: michael and geoff i can tell you guys right now that you are not going to get to your quest beds the same way that the rest of you did  
RAYSPRITE: remember how i said youd use your dreamselves to ascend to god tier?  
RAYSPRITE: well your dreamselves are dead now so you need to find your quest crypt  
PA: our what now?  
RAYSPRITE: your quest crypts. theyre hidden somewhere deep inside your planets which is why you couldnt find them.  
PA: you said all we'd have to do is hit max level, and then we'd find our quest beds!  
RAYSPRITE: yeah i kinda forgot to mention the crypt thing i guess  
PA: well, how the fuck are we supposed to get to the center of our planets??  
PR: I...actually might be able to help with that.  
PR: If I can get control over these powers.  
PR: I’m the Heir of Void, apparently. I can move through solid objects and make myself...I don't know what to call it. Incorporeal? Is that a word?  
CT: Holy shit, you can phase through stuff? Like that chick from X-Men?  
RR: enough with the x-men comparisons already.  
PR: Yeah, basically. But I keep accidentally forgetting about it and then getting stuck. Like right now I'm typing this from halfway inside a boulder because I started sinking into it when you guys messaged me.  
CT: Dude, no, this is perfect! You can phase through planets and find Geoff and Michael's quest crypts!  
EA: but they could be anywhere how are we supposed to find them  
RAYSPRITE: hang on  
RAYSPRITE: jack have you messed with your powers yet  
RAYSPRITE: youre a Seer you should be able to See things  
CT: Uh. What kinds of things?  
RAYSPRITE: hope  
RAYSPRITE: the way out of a bad situation  
RAYSPRITE: in fact you guys probably wont need me much anymore because the Seer is designed to be your guide  
EA: jack are you understanding any of this because i think im more confused than i was before  
CT: I...think so?  
CT: I can tell that Raysprite's right. The best way to fix this is for you guys to ascend.  
EA: and what about gavin  
CT: We'll find him, too. But this is the only way we can save him.  
CT: We'll have a better chance of surviving, too, if we're all immortal.  
CT: It's kind of fuzzy after that, though. Everything kind of...diverges. Raysprite's right, though. I can see exactly where your quest crypts are. I'll go with Ryan to your planets, and he can take you into the core.  
PA: ryan, can you bring people with you when you do the voidy thing, whatever it's called?  
PR: Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can. I brought my phone with me when I fell through a wall earlier, and when I was stuck in the rock, I had my earbuds in. But I haven't tried it with a living creature yet.  
PA: that’s not really reassuring, but i guess it’s the best plan so far. you think you can phase through the planet with me so that we can reach my quest crypt?  
PR: We can try.  
CT: Right. Ryan, I'll meet you over at Geoff's planet.  
PR: ...And how exactly are you planning on getting there?  
RR: just fly  
PR: …But. Atmosphere. Oxygen is a thing that exists, and I need it.  
RR: dude.  
RR: you're a GOD now.  
RR: a pesky little thing like oxygen means nothing to you anymore.  
RR: if it makes you feel any better, i've been testing it for the last fifteen minutes. just chillin up here in the clouds, on my phone. btw, the stratosphere is cold as tits.  
CT: You little shit! You could have flown here, but you just left Ryan and I to get our asses kicked by Gavin?  
RR: i didn't know you guys were in trouble!  
RR: i can't read minds. i knew you were upset but i didn't know where you were or what was going on and none of you were responding to me.  
EA: okay okay we get it. newsflash rays a piece of shit film at eleven  
EA: lets fucking GO ALREADY  
EA: go to geoffs planet first though not mine  
PA: what? why?  
EA: youre the space guy right  
EA: you can move stuff with your mind and shit. if they get to you first and you get your powers you can just teleport me directly to my quest bed. and considering were being hunted by a damn army youll be fucking useful in a fight  
EA: also youre our leader dipshit. you cant lead if youre dead  
PA: no, that's bullshit.  
PA: i'm not about to watch you die again. if i'm the leader of this shitshow, i need to protect the rest of you.  
EA: excuse me?? like hell i need to be protected im a grown man  
CT: That's a noble sentiment and all, Geoff, but Michael's right. It'll be a lot easier on Ryan and I if you ascend first.  
CT: And it'll be easier to fight Gavin off. What'd you do with him, anyway, Ryan?  
PR: I...don't really know.  
PR: I just kind of reached for something to help me get rid of him, and he came at me, and I pushed him out of the way, and then he was gone.  
RR: he'll be back.  
CT: Yeah.  
CT: But in the meantime, let's do this.  
PA: so. just to reiterate. because i’m tired as dicks and still confused.  
PA: jack and ryan are flying to my planet. ryan will be flying me to the center of my planet so i can find my quest bed and die on it. jack will lead us to the actual quest bed. when we’re done we’ll go to michael’s planet so we can get him to his quest crypt.  
PA: all right, then.  
PA: if no one else has any issues then i'm out of here. later, losers. jack and ryan, i’ll see you two in a bit.  
RR: let us know how it goes.  
–- pyrotechnicArchitect has left the memo! —  
–- causticTranquility has left the memo! --  
–- paternalRogue has left the memo! -–  
RR: he's scared as dicks.  
EA: well fuck so am i  
RR: want some company while you wait?  
EA: ...  
EA: yes please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have altered the world of Homestuck a little bit. Instead of being found in the moons of the player's planets, quest crypts are found within the planets themselves. This was to reduce the number of locations within the fic in order to a) help me stay consistent and b) avoid confusion for readers. 
> 
> You can find me over at my blog, [digital-waterfall](http://digital-waterfall.tumblr.com/).


	22. Gavin and Geoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin wakes up (again). 
> 
> Geoff begins his descent.

Gavin is really getting tired of waking up with no memory and a pounding headache.

Granted, it's kind of an occupational hazard of being possessed by malevolent demons. And at least this time, the amnesia doesn't linger as long; he’s growing stronger by the hour. The horrorterrors waste no time in replaying the events that preceded the blackout. 

He remembers everything. _Ryan._ That smug, self-satisfied son of a bitch. He's ruined it. The horrorterrors never expected him to survive the cave-in. But they should have-- with his quick thinking and penchant for loopholes, it shouldn't come as a surprise at all that he, of all people, would still be alive. Gavin's fists clench in a black rage that's both his own, and something else's--

_\--HOW--_

_\--the plan, the plan--_

_\--he's ruined EVERYTHING--_

_\--we almost had them, almost stopped them all--_

Gavin shakes his head to clear it, and looks around. He's not sure exactly how much control Ryan has over his new powers, but there's a chance he didn't know what he was doing. If that's the case, then Gavin still has the element of surprise.

And, most importantly, he's gained the upper hand, because now he's exactly where he wants to be: a scant few hundred miles from his planet. Somewhere deep within the Land of Silver and Gold is a door. A door that opens to the first steps of Plan B.

 _Plan G_ , whispers a voice in the back of his mind, behind a memory of drinks and laughter, but he hardly registers it. _Die,_ says a different voice. A louder, more persuasive one. _Die, and be reborn as a god._

Gavin drifts.

In the distance, a gold planet twinkles.

* * * * *

When Jack, followed shortly by Ryan, touches down on the Land of Moss and Frogs, it's all Geoff can do to resist the urge to burst out laughing. The wind has blown Jack's beard in all different directions, and bits of leaves and twigs are stuck in it from his descent through the forest canopy. The whole ensemble gives him the look of some kind of swamp monster. Both he and Ryan look cold and tired, but Jack’s voice still has that ever-present cheerfulness when he says, “Hey, Geoff.”

“Jesus dicks, am I ever glad to see you.”

Jack makes a move like he's going to embrace Geoff, but it catches Geoff by surprise; he reacts too late, by which point Jack has already backed off. The two of them stand there awkwardly for half a second before Geoff throws up his arms and sweeps them both into a hug, relishing the feeling of being in contact with another human being again.

When they release each other, Ryan glances around. “Bit of a damp place you've got here. What's it called again? Something with frogs?”

“Land of Moss and Frogs, yeah. There's a lot more trees than moss, though...”

“Tell me about it,” says Jack, picking a few stray pine needles out of his beard. “You're lucky you can avoid all this crap with those powers of yours, Ryan. Cheater.”

“But think of all the opportunities for cat burglary!” Ryan says cheerfully.

Geoff rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Burglary. Meanwhile, time's a-wasting. Are you gonna help me or what?”

“Well, not with that attitude,” Ryan says, but at a look from Jack, he relents. “Fine, fine. Jack, go do your creepy Seer of Hope thing. Figure out how to get us down there.”

Jack shuts his eyes and goes perfectly still, cocking his head every now and then as though listening for something.

Geoff turns to pester Ryan. “Are you _sure_ this is going to work? What if I get stuck in something when you try to pull me through the planet?”

Ryan sighs. “Look, you want me to be honest? No, I'm not sure, because no one's tried anything like this before! It's not like this is a popular way to pass the time back on Earth! Would you rather I leave you here?”

Jack opens his eyes and steps between them before Geoff can say something nasty. “Why don't you try it with me first? If I die, or get stuck, I'll just come back. Do it with something soft, though, so it's not too painful in case I get stuck or something.”

Ryan glares at Geoff. “Fine. Hold still.”

He grabs Jack's hand, and without warning, yanks him towards a large bush. Before Geoff has time to even blink, the two of them melt through the branches soundlessly without stirring even a leaf. Geoff feels goosebumps crawling up his spine when they return-- it's entirely too ghostlike for his comfort.

Ryan turns to Jack. “There. See? Was that so hard?”

“A little warning would have been nice,” says Jack, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But-- yeah. That worked pretty well. I can see in my head where you should be going, and I'll know if you go off track. This shouldn't take long at all. Didn't feel a thing.”

Geoff doubts that very much. “Fine. How are we going to-- ack!”

Ryan wraps his arms around Geoff's waist like he’s Superman holding Lois Lane, hugging the two of them together, and it's _humiliating_. He can hear Jack cracking up in the background. _So help me God, if he's filming this, I will end him._ “What the hell? Let me go, Ryan!”

“Absolutely not,” says Ryan seriously. “There's no way I'm going to risk losing you on this trip. Just-- god damn it, will you hold still? It's going to be hard enough to get through miles of rock as it is, and we're going to be moving at like eighty miles an hour! I don't want to be worrying about accidentally letting go of your hand, or something--”

Geoff is writhing and swearing a blue streak, but Ryan has him pinned. “There is no way in hell I'm letting you do this! I’m not your damn girlfriend! Come on, why can't we do it like you did with Jack, I won't let go of your hand, it'll be fine--”

He can't see Ryan's face, but he can hear the incredulity in his voice. “You were the one who was terrified of getting permanently trapped in bedrock!”

Geoff makes a disgruntled sulking noise. Ryan sighs again. “It's this, or I carry you bridal style instead, for the whole way down. Would you rather have that? I'm sure I can arrange Jack to take a picture.”

Jack is still snickering in the background, and Geoff is really getting tired of being the butt monkey of their merry band of fuckheads. “Fine. Make it quick.”

“Only if you tip me at the end,” Ryan mutters. And with that, they begin sinking into the earth.

It doesn't take long for Geoff to appreciate why Ryan demanded to keep him in such a tight hold. He has to work very, very hard not to panic the whole way down. It feels like he's dissolving-- like someone is taking all of his molecules and running them through a strainer before reassembling them. Fortunately, Ryan's grip makes it difficult to do anything other than sit and wait for it to all be over. Soon they're moving so fast that it's difficult to talk. Jack's saying something, but Geoff has to trust that he and Ryan know what they're doing, because he can't hear a thing.

By the time they burst through the final layer of earth into a massive cavern, Geoff's almost forgotten what it's like to be moving at a less-than-breakneck speed. He sucks in a breath with newly corporeal lungs and sighs with relief. Ryan loosens his grasp just a little, enough for Geoff to scooch back while holding the other man's waist, standing on Ryan's feet as though learning to dance. Fortunately, he and Ryan are about the same height, so he can see his surroundings by peering over Ryan's shoulders.

“Dude,” says Michael, and Geoff jumps; he's forgotten that the others are probably watching them through their livestream. “I don't mean to interrupt, but this is the gayest thing I've ever seen. Don't you have wives or something?”

“Ignore him,” mutters Ryan.

“I heard that--” _Thud._ “Ow. Ray, why?”

While the others bicker, Geoff takes in his surroundings. The two of them are floating in space, suspended above a long rectangle of black rock with a white spiral in the center. Dark green chains are strewn about, stretching across the cavern, but nothing appears to be holding his quest bed in place. The whole area gives him the creeps-- even more than the thought of dying. Raysprite had called it a crypt, and Geoff can't think of a better word for it: a dark, echoing, spherical chamber, so huge that he can't see where it begins or ends.

But at least he has Ryan with him. He'd much rather die on his own terms, with a friend nearby.

“Hey,” he says, nudging Ryan. “Let's get down there. The sooner we get this over with, the better.”

“Aye aye,” says Ryan, and they begin their descent into the cavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [alataya](http://alataya.deviantart.com/art/Knight-of-Rage-523279746) made a fantastic sprite of Michael as the Knight of Rage! How cute is this?? Thank you so much!


End file.
